Star Trek: Warlord, Obstacles
by Morphere
Summary: I'm BAAAAACCCKKK! Did anyone miss me? Does anyone even remember the story? Sorry I've been gone so long.
1. Chapter 1

Commander Stephen Kirk unzipped the jacket of his red and black uniform and collapsed lengthwise onto his overstuffed couch with a loud sigh. His head hit the far arm of the couch hard enough for him to feel some pain, but he didn't care. The past several days had been little more than a myriad of emotions. Thankfully, the trip home had been pleasantly without incident. Repairs to the ship were on schedule. The crewmembers injured during the battle were fully healed and back to duty. For the most part, the crew shift rosters were full and running smoothly. For all intents and purposes, all was well. It seemed almost surreal. Almost as a luxury, he allowed his eyes to close.

The luxury wouldn't last long. As his mind began to drift into sleep, the doorchime chirped. He rolled his eyes and sat up, running his fingers through his normally short, brown hair. Apparently, it was in need of a cut. Taking one last breath, he spoke at the door. "Come."

The door slid open with a hiss revealing Ensign Tyler Bristol, the Warlord's chief helmsman. He was tall and thin with a slicked back bowlcut of dark brown for hair, the standard 'do' for the hyperbike set. The normally wide-eyed and brazen youth had been strangely silent lately; hardly ever cracking a smile. Stephen kept thinking to himself to call Tyler into the ready room to see what was going on, but his ever-drifting mind kept forgetting. Looking at the brown eyes of the ensign, he was reminded of a sad puppy. "Do you mind if I come in for a sec, commander?" he asked in his high-pitched, cockney accent.

Stephen smiled weakly, still mentally and physically drained. "Sure, come on in, ensign."

Tyler feigned a smile in return and walked into the commander's quarters. It was a bit larger than his own, mostly due to the kitchenette and small dining space just off the main room. Tyler was amazed at the collection of antiques lining the walls, shelves, and tables. He recognized most of the memorabilia as being parts and books on old devices called automobiles. The wall above the couch was dominated by a giant silvery construction called a 'bumper.' Against the wall separating the commanders living area from his sleeping area was a large, multi-colored machine with rounded, glowing tubes rimming the front edges. Tyler took a moment to take in the room, since this was his first time ever visiting the commander in his quarters. It was like walking into a museum. Despite the way he was feeling, he had to smile.

The past couple of days had really eaten at him. Early on, during the battle, Tyler had made a critical mistake... it had almost cost the crew their lives. "You're going to get us killed!" he heard Commander Kirk repeating over and over in his mind. Since he was a boy, all Tyler could do was dream of the heroic feats he would perform once he got into space. He had gone against his mother's wishes and his father's instructions to get where he was. Now, one critical misjudgement almost doomed his crew... and who knew how many others. He looked at the seat opposite the couch Commander Kirk was sitting on. "May I sit down, Sir?" He asked politely.

Stephen smiled at Tyler's adherence to rules and regulations. He rubbed his face to clear the last of the sleepiness from his expression. "Go ahead, Ty," he replied. "And, we're off duty... you can ditch the titles." Kirk considered him thoughtfully as he sat down. "Thirsty? Can I get you anything?"

Tyler sat down uncomfortably. The seat was much more plush then the cushioned acrylic furniture he had. He had the vague sensation of sinking into the chair. It took him several attempts at adjusting himself before he was somewhat comfortable. "No thank you, uh... what do I call you?"

Kirk chuckled. "I'm pretty easy. Stephen, Steve, Kirk, I answer to just about anything. Well, you might want to leave honeybunch alone," He added with a smile. Tyler couldn't help but smile as well. "What's on your mind?"

Tyler took a deep breath. This wouldn't be easy for him. "It's... about my performance during the fight." Instinctively, he started rubbing his hands against his thighs.

The past couple of days had been quite a blurr for Stephen, so the details were still fuzzy. As far as he could remember, Tyler had performed as well as everyone else. Was there something? Possibly... his mind was starting to remember something, but it didn't give him the impression it was a big deal. "I thought you did pretty well."

Tyler scoffed. "Hardly! I almost got us all killed against that battleship." It was a painful admission to make, but in a blurt of frustration at himself, he said it.

That moment was starting to come back to Stephen now. It was a beginner's mistake... nothing major. The scene began replaying in his mind of the giant Dominion battleship coming around the rear of the Warlord. No matter what Tyler did, the ship remained behind them, where the Warlord's weapony was weakest. Stephen found words difficult to come by. "Well... I... I don't know that I'd go that far..."

"Well," Tyler countered, "that's what you said." That statement forced the rest of that memory into Stephen's head. He was right. A look of pained recognition crossed Stephen's face, prompting Tyler to offer forward his hands defensively. "Not that I blame you... you were right. I acted stupidly. I could have gotten us all killed, couldn't I?" The question was more rhetorical than actual. Despite his initial desire to remain calm, he was getting flustered. The desire to transfer somewhere less stressful was greater than ever.

The question threw Stephen off. Apparently, this had to be Tyler's first real setback. He rubbed his face hard enough to make his forehead red. "Well... no... but, well... okay, yes. Technically, yes... I suppose." Oh, how he wished he had the right words. Tyler's face looked completely deflated. Kirk looked up at him. "Look, if you were expecting to get through your entire career and not screw up at least once, you'd be the first... EVER."

Stephen sat back in his couch and looked at the young boy. Suddenly, memories of similar discussions he had with two of his former captains came to mind. He had been on the other side of this discussion many times in his life. He seemed to recall a certain Marine captain giving him a lecture like this, too. Despite the gravity of the discussion, he couldn't help but smile at the memories. Times were so much simpler then. His expression became thoughtful as he looked at the young ensign, who was on the verge of crying. "Tyler, listen to me. You graduated at the top of your class. That doesn't make you an expert in everything. Okay, you let the situation get the better of you and made a bad judgement call. Sometimes, even in the middle of a crisis, you need to take a step back and think things through."

"You didn't have to." Tyler was having a difficult time hearing someone else admit he had screwed up so badly, as if it wasn't bad enough having his own conscience reminding him. "You knew exactly what to do."

"What... you think I was born with that idea?" Kirk admitted with a wink. "I got that bright idea while I was the helmsman on the Victory." Stephen chuckled again. "It didn't work quite so well, then."

"Oh?" Tyler asked.

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "Heck no. Those old Excelsior frames aren't nearly as strong as the Warlord's. The shearing force of having the two engines go opposite directions tore off the starboard impulse engine," he said with a smile.

Tyler laughed. "You're kidding me."

Kirk covered his mouth with his hand as he shook his head. "Oh, no I'm not. I think I did more damage to that old Excelsior class than the other ship." The two laughed for several seconds. "All I'm trying to say is this... we all screw up every now and then. That's why you're not the only one on the bridge. That's why I'm not the only one on the bridge. We're a team. We cover for each other. Besides, other than that, you were spot-on perfect."

Tyler smiled for the first time in three days. "Thanks."

"So... we try to keep our screw-ups to a minimum knowing that if we do, there's someone to help. It's that whole 'team thing.' So, don't sweat it. You made a mistake. You'll make more. We all will. It's part of life. Just... you know... don't make a full-time job out of it."

Tyler's smile grew. He was feeling a little better. After all, that's what a team was for, right? "I'll try not to,"

"Good," Stephen concluded. However, for Stephen, there was one more thing he needed to do. "Tyler... I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I mean, I know we needed to do something quickly, but I could have chosen better words. I'm sorry for that."

"Don't worry about it," Tyler replied nonchalantly. "I needed a swift kick in the bum." 


	2. Chapter 2

Commander Kirk stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge. "Commander on the bridge," Ensign Lackerbie announced dutifully. He was young, thin... and looked fresh from the Academy. He was the Warlord's third shift communications officer. Good, Stephen thought, Elaine wasn't on duty yet. Based on the memories Tyler had rekindled last night, he had one more apology to make.

Lieutenant Commander T'Nia turned to look at him with a typical raised eyebrow as he approached the captain's seat. "You're early," she announced quietly.

"Got some stuff to do," Stephen replied. Of all the times to have old friends aboard, now was when it meant most. He gave her a warm smile as she stood up. He considered the thin female vulcan thoughtfully with a warm smile for a moment, then let his voice become more official as he continued speaking. "Do you have anything to report?" he asked.

T'Nia looked into her friend's eyes. They looked tired. The death of Captain Bolerov had taken a mental and physical toll on Stephen. Thankfully, they were heading to Earth for some much needed rest... two weeks worth, to be exact. She would have preferred to join them. Her friends were obviously planning on 'unwinding' in a number of juvenile methods, which she found, secretly, quite amusing, though she rarily participated. Instead, her thoughts lingered on her other duties, primarily her trip to Vulcan. There she would meet with her betrothed and make final plans for her wedding next year. "Lieutenant Box reported success in removing the bulkeads containing the... remains... of the Gem'Hadar. Lieutenant P'rr's reports the plasma leak in the port nacell has been completely patched. As predicted, it will be useless for the remainder of the trip home. Other repairs are progressing according to the original timeline. Doctor Rass confirmed all injuries have been healed and the remaining crew may return to active duty." Her last announcement came slower. "The Hood has confirmed their ability to meet with us tomorrow morning in order to take me to Vulcan."

Stephen seemed to deflate a bit when reminded of T'Nia's impending departure. Realizing she was leaving for a good reason, mainly her wedding, he tried to seem more cheerful than he felt. "We'll all need to get together tonight before you take off."

"That would be... acceptable... to me," she replied. For the sake of the other bridge crew, her voice sounded typically vulcan, but Stephen could see the faint twinkle in her eye meaning it was something she was looking forward to. She, Tony, Box, and he had been friends for well over ten years and never stopped talking to each other, even when assigned to four different ships. Since the original captain of the Warlord saw fit to put them back together again had been quite a blessing to him. "The other shift details are in the duty log, as usual." She pointed to the flipped up screen on the right arm of the chair. "I take it I am relieved?"

As T'Nia was asking, the turbolift doors opened revealing Lieutenant Elaine Davies and Ensign Tyler Bristol. They were laughing happily. "... spewed my guts halfway to the bathroom. I swear, no one told me how hot Thai food could be!" she exclaimed through her laughter.

"Okay," Tyler admitted, "that one beats mine." As they saw the commander on the bridge, their laughter calmed a bit to pleasant smiles. "Morning, Commander," Tyler offered.

The other turbolift door opened, allowing Lieutenant Tony Moreaux to exit whistling some kind of jazz tune. As he walked in, he saw his friend and commanding officer, Stephen, standing next to T'Nia. "Commander?" he asked. He looked at the chronometer on the wall. "You're... early. Is there something you need to tell us?" He asked with a wry smile.

"Very funny, Moreaux," Stephen quipped. "Morning, Ensign," he added, nodding to the young British navigator as he took his seat to the front and left of the captain's seat. He turned back to T'Nia. "Actually, could you keep the conn for a few more minutes? I need to talk to Elaine about something."

Elaine had been smiling happily when Tony sat down in the systems administration seat next to hers when she heard her name mentioned. Lockerbie had already been moving for the turbolift and stopped. Things had been going very smoothly between she and Tony for the past month. Regretfully, the incidents of the past several days had put a damper on everyone's spirits. Even though everything had turned out even better than expected, the shadow of the death of the captain loomed large. This morning had been the first time in over a week that she had laughed. In her mind, she couldn't think of any reason why the commander would want to talk to her... but memories of previous captain's and admiral's discussions gave her an instinctive cause for concern.

"Do you want me to stay at the communications post, Sir?" the young ensign asked.

"Could you please? It'll only take a minute or two," Stephen answered.

Eager to prove himself, he gladly answered, "Certainly, Sir!" He almost jumped into the seat before Elaine could get completely out. "Sorry, Sir," he offered weakly as he caught part of her skirt with his leg sitting down. The catch almost caused her to fall as she was standing.

For a moment, she wanted to at least say something flippant, but her concern over the coming conversation prevented her from thinking of anything witty. She settled on rolling her eyes as she used the console to steady herself. Much to Lockerbie's relief, most of the crew was chuckling at the moment. For a moment, she recalled what it was like to be fresh out of the Academy, to be that young and eager to prove herself. She desperately wished she could go back in time and warn herself of the stupid mistakes she was going to make... mistakes that would ultimately limit her career. "You could at least offer me a hand up," she countered.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Lockerbie offered. He grabbed her hand and helped her back upright. Kirk just shook his head with a smile.

Straightening her uniform, she looked back at the commander with a half smile. "I'm not in trouble again, am I, Sir?" she asked half-jokingly. She knew there couldn't be anything wrong... unless it was to correct her for her hesitation during the battle, or her inability to keep those damned alert warnings from going off, or...

Stephen looked at her quizzically. "Oh, heavens no," he replied. "I just need a few minutes."

Her chest, like a balloon full of worry, suddenly deflated with relief. "Okay," she replied, "just checking, Sir."

Stephen motioned towards the ready room. "We can meet in the captain's..." he caught himself. He guessed it wasn't the captain's ready room any more. Well, it would be again, he thought. They'd pull into spacedock and take shore leave. By the time they got back, they'd have yet another captain, the third in six months. "ready room. After you," he finished.

Making sure Lockerbie's legs were safely out of her way, Elaine walked past her communications station. "Yes, Sir."

Tony watched the two of them walk off into the ready room. Somehow, the thoughts of jealosy demonized him again. He had gotten past that, he thought. Tony slammed his eyes shut to banish the thought. "He's never done that before," he thought, trying to convince himself. "Steve's my friend. If he says he's not interested in her, he's not interested." Why, then, did the thought of the two of them heading off to a room together disturb him so? He slapped his head in an attempt to change his thoughts.

"Sir, are you okay?" Lockerbie asked.

"Yes," Tony snapped. "Everyone smacks themselves from time to time. It helps me wake up." He tapped his keyboard to pull up his task list for the day.

Lockerbie stared at him curiously for several seconds, shrugged, then put the earpiece back to his ear. 


	3. Chapter 3

The door to the ready room slid shut with a hiss behind them. The room was small, as were most aboard the ship. A small couch, almost the size of a loveseat, sat against the wall to the right of the door. An old, wooden rocking chair sat to the left of the door. Two chairs faced the small, wood-grained desk in the center. The walls were lined with a thick, military green fabric. Behind the desk, one, large, rectangular window offered a view of space. Stephen motioned to the chairs at the near side of the desk. "Please, sit down, Lieutenant," Stephen offered.

"Thank you, Sir," she answered. She took the seat. Curiosity was now beginning to rise in her. What did he want? If it wasn't to correct her, then what? Once again, memories of poor decisions in the past filled her. She had spent time in a captain's ready room before, thinking she was in a 'loving relationship' before everything fell apart. Surely that wasn't what Commander Kirk was thinking. Realizing she was wearing the uniform skirt, crossed her legs quickly. She certainly didn't want to be misunderstood again. 

Stephen sat down on behind the desk and took a breath. He wasn't sure why apologizing was so difficult for him. Was it ego? He didn't think he had one. Pride? Stubbornness? Closing his eyes momentarily, he decided not to dwell any further on self examination. He leaned forward and rested his elbows against the desk. Smiling awkwardly, he asked, "So, how are you doing?"

This was strange, she thought. He's trying to make small talk? She thought to herself, "Please don't let him be attracted to me." Well, he was kind of cute... but relations with a superior officer was what had gotten her in trouble before... twice. "I'm fine," she answered finally. She let the last word linger for several moments. "How about you?" She really didn't want anything to ruin this assignment. Although she wasn't entirely comfortable being aboard a vessel officially declared a 'warship', but she really did like Stephen as a commander and was starting to get along with the rest of the crew.

"Not so good," Kirk answered finally. He was searching for the right words, but they just weren't coming.

Forgetting the potential dangers of getting too friendly, she started to feel genuinely concerned. "What's wrong?" The expression of worry was quite evident on her face.

Her look of concern actually made him feel gultier than before. Setting his hands down on the desk, he took another breath. "The other day... during our battle..." he paused for several seconds to let her mind refocus, "I said some things. Well, I snapped. I yelled... at you... for something that wasn't even your fault."

Her mind went back to the battle, when he yelled at her to turn off the alarms. Honestly, she had been in such a panicked state of mind at the time, it had slipped her mind. Absently, she leaned forward and nodded at the recollection.

"I... wanted to apologize. It was really unprofessional. I got caught up in the stress of the moment and stopped thinking rationally; something a real leader wouldn't have done. I wanted to say I was sorry." He pursed his lips and shrugged. That was about as eloquent as he was going to get.

That was it? She thought. Nothing sexual... nothing provacative? He wanted to apologize? "That is so sweet!" she thought to herself. "Commander," she started with a broad smile, "it was perfectly understandable. I mean, I would have yelled at me, too."

She took it as well as he hoped she would. He sat back and smiled in relief. "Well, I don't really see it that way, but I really appreciate your understanding. Oh... by the way, way to go with the Cardassian language. You really helped us out with that."

She smiled, remembering the moment. "Yeah, well... we can't all be brilliant tacticians, Steve..." she caught herself and her eyes grew wide with embarassment. "I mean, Sir," she corrected quickly.

Stephen laughed. "Hanging around Tony's been rubbing off on you," he concluded. He and his friends had spent entirely too much time apart, so it had been awhile since he got his last 'Tony and Elaine' update. Hopefully, this slight break in protocol meant they were still getting along well. As proper Starfleet protocol demanded, commanding officers were required to look through the personnel records of the rest of the senior officers. Although Elaine's record and education had been excellent, she had gotten in trouble more than once for... well, 'bad choices in boyfriends.' Hopefully, spending time with Tony could help pull her out.

She smiled warmly, "I guess he has. Sorry about that, Commander."

He waved it off. "Don't worry about it." He smiled again. "Tony's a good guy. I'm glad the two of you are still getting along."

She nodded. "Yes, Sir. He is." She looked at her commander thoughtfully. He looked worn and obviously needed to hear something encouraging. "He thinks the world of you." Her thoughts drifted back to the discussion she had with Tony regarding the time they boarded a crippled romulan ship. Stephen saved his life that day. It had taken Tony over a month before he was willing to open himself up enough to share the details.

"Well, I think the world of him, too. I don't think I would have graduated without him," Kirk admitted. His mind drifted back to the hours the two of them spent studying system programming. Stephen was sure it was going to be the death of him. "I guess that's just what friends do." He smacked his hands against the desk and gave another awkward smile. "Well, that was it," he announced, standing up. "I'm glad we had a chance to talk. So... we're okay?"

Elaine bit her lip. "Yes, Commander... we're fine," she answered, standing up. She was definately going to have to help him with his people skills. He sure wasn't going to learn them from the vulcan weapons officer. Regardless of the ship's purpose in Starfleet, this was obviously where she was supposed to be. 


	4. Chapter 4

The four friends had gathered at the holodeck on deck four. Stephen had already been at the controls for several minutes before everyone else arrived. T'Nia was due to take over as third shift commander in just over an hour. As Stephen greeted the three, he opened the large, reinforced double doors to reveal a scene straight from the 1950's... a drive-up diner and soda shop complete with other patrons, waitresses on roller skates, the sound of Fats Domino playing over the PA speakers, and an empty 1957 Pontiac Bonneville convertible.

Tony ran for the empty white vehicle covered in chrome with red stripes nearly knocking over a waitress in the process. "Woo hoo!" he yelled as he hopped over the gigantic door and plopped himself in the back seat. The car acknowledged the new weight by making a barely discernable rocking motion. The sun above was warm and bright with ample, pillowy clouds lazily floating overhead. In the background, other vintage combustion engine ground vehicles drove past.

Stephen, T'Nia, and Box walked up to the automobile more calmly. Box raised the front left of his twelve legs and scratched his oversized, semi-translucent head. Sucking in air through a hole he created in his abdomen, he created a voice box, then blew the air out. The sound of the escaping air allowed him to speak. "Hhhhand this is called what?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's called a drive-in diner," Stephen replied with a smile. "You sit in your car, a waitress takes your order over the speaker, and she brings it out to you on roller skates."

Box's many black, golfball sized eyes carefully surveyed the vehicle. "Hhhhi do not think I will fit."

Stephen hit the side of the large car door. the sound was barely audible, but gave the impression it was built of a very heavy metal. "You'll be fine," he said confidently. "This thing is made of the finest Detroit steel. We'll just recline the seat back a bit." He opened the door with some effort, grabbed a small lever and pushed it backwards. The large, vinyl passenger seat sprung backwards. He motioned Box to get in. "You'll love it."

"I don't think this is wise," T'Nia commented, staring at the scene with skeptically raised eyebrow.

Box started to get in. "Hhhhyou are certain about this?" he asked nervously. As a giant, crystalline spider, he was about the size of a donkey, but much thicker in the torso and weighed nearly four hundred kilograms.

"It'll be fine," Stephen insisted. "I'm sure cars like this endured a whole lot more than a big spider before."

"Hhhhif you say so, Stephen," Box conceded. He crawled in and attempted to retract his legs far enough for the door to shut. Despite his every efforts to contort his legs, it just wasn't working. Giving up, he decided to simply leg six of his legs hang over the car door as Stephen closed it.

"This is not wise," T'Nia repeated.

"Stop being such a pessimist," Kirk replied. He was growing tired of everyone's lack of faith. He grabbed the car door and began to close it.

The high-pitched squeal from Box caused everyone at the diner to cover their ears in pain. The braces for the seat back snapped, causing the back of the passenger seat to collapse into the back seat. The collapse caused the round body of Box to roll backwards until he came up over the back seat and rolled the rest of the way out, over the back trunk of the car, and onto the pavement.

When the three finally regathered their senses, Tony looked at the broken seat. "So much for Detroit steel," he remarked.

"I told you it wasn't wise," T'Nia added.

"Very funny," Kirk admitted. He turned to his arachnoid friend. "You okay, Box?"

Scrambling with his legs, he finally managed to right himself and stand. "Hhhhi am a little dizzy," he stated flatly. He altered the shape of the end of his right-front leg to be a three fingered hand. He used it to point to a round, formica table in front of the diner. "Hhhhperhaps we can eat there instead."

"Fine," Stephen conceded. The group headed towards the table in the center of the parking spaces with Box bringing up the rear, walking sideways.

A pretty brunette in her early twenties rolled up to their table wearing a short, black skirt, pink shirt with black arms, a small, pink apron, and a large, pink bow tie atop her ponytailed hair. She was also obnoxiously chewing gum. "Waddaya have?" she asked quickly, pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil.

The group quickly looked over the small billboard in front of the building. Thankfully, the menu was rather small. Kirk turned back to the waitress. "I'll take a burger with the works, a basket of fries and a chocolate shake."

Tony nodded. He had visited nostalgia places like this on Earth, but it had been awhile. "I'll take the same," he answered with a smile and a wink to the waitress.

"I shall also have the same," T'Nia added. 

"Hhhhi shall have many of the same," Box answered with a large, toothy smile.

"You wanna be a little more specific?" The waitress asked, scratching her head with her pencil.

"Hhhhvery many," he answered.

The waitress gave a sarcastic smile. "I'll start ya with ten. If ya need more than that, you can tell me." With that, she skated off towards the building.

"Hhhhwhat made you choose this place?" Box asked.

"I just wanted to pick someplace different for a change," Stephen replied with a shrug. "It's the last we'll be seeing of Tee for awhile."

T'Nia cocked her head. "I will only be gone for two weeks. Our group has been apart for a much longer period of time before."

"True," Kirk conceded. "But we've been serving on the same ship for, what... five months now?" he asked rhetorically. Had it really been that long already? Time had certainly flown. "You kind of get used to having people around when you see them every day for that long," he countered with a smile.

"Besides," Tony added, "he needed a good excuse to have really greasy food." His smile was even bigger. Actually, Tony had really missed these times together. Once again, schedules had been thrown off, preventing the foursome from meeting.

Several minutes later, the waitress whose name, Annie, was prominantly displayed on her large nametag, rolled out with several milkshakes. She gingerly placed one in front of T'nia, Stephen, and Tony, then placed ten in front of Box. "I'll be back with the rest in a few minutes," she said quickly before spinning on her heel and skating back to the front window.

Stephen raised his glass. "To getting hitched," he offered with a smile. It was the best he could come up with on short notice.

They each raised their shakes as T'Nia raised an eyebrow towards her friend. They each took a long slurp. Box, of course, emptied his glass in one sitting. The brown liquid made its way through his esophogus, which could be seen through his translucent body.

"I still can't believe you're actually getting married to that stiff," Tony commented off-handedly.

T'Nia cast him a sideways glance. "Sekir is well respected in his field of medicine; an honorable man of science and logic."

"He's still a stiff," Tony added, taking another drink.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," T'Nia began, "but you consider the ability to make flatulation noises with your hand and armpit to be an important factor in determining friendships, correct?"

"An absolute requirement!" Tony exclaimed with a smile. He held up his glass as a toast.

"I believe I will trust in my own judgement," T'Nia concluded, taking another sip. 


	5. Chapter 5

The foursome continued enjoying their shakes. Box had finished his fifth when Tony spoke up. "Okay," he started, looking towards Stephen, "I need your advice."

Stephen was taken aback by the comment, but such was Tony's rather impetuous mindset. "What's on your mind?" he asked pensively.

This was going to be a hard topic to bring up, considering his mixed feelings towards his friend, but he really needed help and Steve was his best choice. "Don't laugh, but it's about Elaine."

Box shook and made a tinkling sound resembling windchimes. Such was the way a Hamalki laughed. T'Nia merely cleared her throat at the comment. Stephen looked around, mocking confusion and concern. He knew exactly why his friends were 'laughing'... well, as well as their respective races would let them. "What?" he asked. He knew darn well what the answer was.

"I know, I know," Tony offered, raising his hands in defense. Asking Steve about relational advice was problematic at best. He was notoriously bad with the opposite gender. "He's all I got," Tony added defensively.

"You know, I am sitting right here," Stephen offered.

"Stephen's failures with women are somewhat famous by now," T'Nia added.

"Again... I'm sitting here," Stephen added once more. He could hardly blame them, however. They were right. Although part of him was depressed with that realization, a larger part was elated. At least that was ONE area of his life where he wouldn't be compared to his great grandfather.

"Hhhhperhaps you could ask others," Box offered while sipping his sixth milkshake.

"Who else am I going to ask?" He pointed to Box, "The bug?" He pointed to T'Nia, "Or the ice queen?" T'Nia's eyes narrowed as she stared at Tony darkly. Not taking her eyes from him, she quickly slurped down her shake until the straw made a loud sucking sound.

"Well," Kirk offered weakly, looking at T'Nia's icy gaze, "I wouldn't ask her now." Tony turned to look at her and was startled by the expression on her face. "But, she is the only one of the four of us getting married. She's obviously doing something right."

Tony Scooted his seat a little farther away from her. "It's an arranged marriage. That doesn't count."

"You say that as though it was a detriment," T'Nia commented, setting her glass down. "Considering the efforts you have been through and their results, I find it preferrable."

"But the thrill is in the hunt!" Tony exclaimed. Annie brought the rest of their food, carefully wrapped in wax paper, and sat it down in front of them. He pointed to the table full of sandwiches and fries. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" He reached for a bag of fries and a burger. Each friend grabbed their respective food and began unwrapping. T'Nia unwrapped her hamburger and took the top bun off and offered the burger to Tony. "Thanks," he said, taking the meat from her sandwich and putting it in his own.

She put her meatless sandwich back together, then squirted a generous amount of mustard on the wrapping paper in front of her fries. "A woman is not an animal to be hunted," she stated flatly. "Think of her as a prize to be won. Do you value her company?" She asked, dipping a french fry in mustard.

Tony took a bite and answered, his mouth still full. "Absolutely."

T'Nia rolled her eyes. "Do you respect her as a co-worker and person?"

"You bet," he answered, still chewing his food.

"Does she know that?" Tony only shrugged. "Then, as a clueless vulcan, I would suggest you start by telling her. Let the relationship progress logically from there." She ate her fry.

"Dang," Tony remarked, "I didn't even tell you what I needed help with."

"You wanted direction, yes?" she asked. Humbly, Tony nodded. "You received it."

Stephen laughed as he looked to T'Nia. "You're going to miss us."

She considered him thoughtfully. "I will only be gone two weeks."

"True," Stephen agreed, "but you're still going to miss us." He took another bite of his burger.

"Most likely," she admited. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Admiral on the bridge," Lieutenant Davies announced as Admiral Jean-Luc Picard stepped out from the turbolift. The bridge crew instantly stood to attention as he entered.

"Thank you," Admiral Picard answered graciously as he walked towards the middle of the deceptively small bridge.

Picard approached the center of the bridge where Commander Kirk was standing. "Thank you for indulging me," he added. Jean-Luc marvelled at the smallness of the bridge. For a vessel roughly twice the size of his own, the bridge was, quite possibly, half the size.

"It's not a problem at all, Admiral," Kirk replied. He motioned to the captain's seat. "Would you like to sit in the 'big chair'?" Personally, he had been hoping Admiral Picard would assume command for the trip home. Actually, a part of him wanted Picard to like it so much, he would ask to be permanently assigned.

Picard offered out his arms in defense. "No, no. This is your ship, Commander. I'm merely a visitor here." Picard pointed to the auxiliary seat to the left of the captain's seat. "This will do just fine." He sat down with a warm smile. The crew, including Stephen, sat down. Picard leaned in closer to the commander. "I must admit," he started quietly, "I do miss my ship."

"Well, we'll have you back home in just a couple of days," Kirk replied. The return held mixed feelings for Kirk. He would be happy to be home again and to see his family. He had missed his first Christmas with them. His missed their New Year's party, too. He was looking forward to seeing them again. Unfortunately, looming larger was a formal board of inquiry surrounding the events at the Battle of Cardassia Prime. He already knew of one person on the board, Admiral Jason Wellington. Wellington had hated Kirk ever since he was admitted to the Academy. Time hadn't helped, either.

"Commander," Commander Richards announced, spinning in his seat. "I've got a starship entering long sensor range and closing at warp. It's transponder designates it as the USS Hood..." Richards returned to his screen and stared again.

"I'm waiting for the 'but'," Stephen commented. Kenyon didn't look worried, just perplexed.

The commander with the close-cut afro turned back around. "Well, the registry is wrong and it doesn't look like any Excelsior-class starship I've ever seen. It looks more like a Sovereign."

Picard smiled. "It probably is. Your system should get the update the next time you sync with a Starfleet database. Starfleet's been trying to mothball the Excelsiors for a couple of years now."

"It's about time they retired those old junk buckets," Kenyon remarked with a nod.

"Those 'junk buckets' as you call them have served Starfleet faithfully for almost a century," Picard countered with a knowing smile.

Kirk shook his head, "Yeah, but they were nothing but target practice for the Dominion," Stephen countered himself.

Picard nodded. "Hence the reason for their accellerated replacement. Admiral DeSoto must have gotten a hold of one." The bald admiral smiled. "It would seem he still has connections," he concluded with a wink.

"Commander, the USS Hood is hailing us," Elaine said warmly. These days of quiet were what she liked most. Not only did it give her a chance to get to know her crewmates better, it gave her a chance to study the history of Telosian art.

"Put them on screen, Lieutenant," Kirk ordered. This was yet another bittersweet experience he was about to take part in. Apparently, Admirals Picard and DeSoto had some history together, which was why Picard had requested being on the bridge during the crew transfer. Unfortunately, this also marked the departure of his friend, T'Nia, at a time when he really needed her logic and encouragement.

"Aye, aye, Sir," Elaine replied obediently. The large, forward screen switched from a view of space to the bridge view of the USS Hood. The layout of the stations was virtually identical to the Warlord, but the colors were darker and there was more space. A number of auxiliary computer consoles and seats made up the excess along the back of the bridge. Eight people sat ringing the bridge at their duty stations. 

In the center seat was a man of smaller stature, with a round and almost completely bald head, was the captain. He looked elderly, but his eyes sparkled as he stared into his own screen. His voice was authoritative, but somewhat strained as he spoke. "Damn, that's one big ship you've got there."

"Your's isn't too shabby, either, Admiral," Kirk countered with a smile.

"We'd have had it sooner, except we were diverted to the Neutral Zone to back up the Enterprise. No one told us the Warlord was going to be there."

Kirk pursed his lips at the memory of the Battle at the Bassen Rift. "It was news to us, too," he replied in a low tone. Eight people died that day. Even though that was months ago, the memories of the services came flooding back as though it had happened yesterday.

"The new ship suits you, Robert," Picard remarked, picking up the mood.

Admiral DeSoto chuckled. "It's only going to suit me for another couple of months. Once we've finished shaking her down, I'm turing it over to Conrad here," he motioned, with his thumb, to his first officer; a tall, dark man with a goatee.

Picard was taken aback. "Are you transferring?"

DeSoto's smile widened, "I'm retiring."

"Retiring? But you..." Picard began, surprised.

"I'm at least twelve years older than you, Jean-Luc," DeSoto interrupted. "Oh, Starfleet has been begging me to stay awhile longer. I'm honored, of course... they even gave me this nifty promotion, but I've been looking forward to some well-deserved afternoon naps by the lake for awhile now."

Picard smiled. He had forgotten how old Robert really was. After all, it was Robert DeSoto who took the freshly promoted Lieutenant Commander William Riker and honed him into the man who would become Enterprise's first officer, and finally captain of the USS Titan. Robert DeSoto was commanding starships while he was still in the Academy. "How long do you have left?" he asked finally.

"Fifty-seven days and counting," came the happy reply. Still, for just a moment, there was a hint of sadness in DeSoto's eyes. Stephen could tell his change was bittersweet as well. Admiral DeSoto clapped his hands. "I hear we're playing taxi service. Where's our customer?" His expression brightened again.

"She's in our transporter room," Kirk replied. 

"Great... bring her over here... transporter room one. We're sending the coordinates now." He turned around to a Euridian man behind him who began pressing buttons.

"I've got them, Sir," Elaine remarked.

Kirk nodded. "Send them down." He tapped his comm badge. "Bridge to transporter room two."

Kirk's comm badge popped. "Transporter room... Andrews here."

"You're getting coordinates for T'Nia. Send her along as soon as you get them."

"Aye, aye, Sir," the young ensign replied.

"Oh," Kirk interjected, "tell T'Nia to make sure she uses the color pink in her wedding," he added with a wry smile. He turned back to look at the expression on Tony's face. Tony was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

Ensign Andrews began relaying the message, but was cut off by a female voice in the background. "Don't bet on it... energixe," she said.

Stephen turned back around to face the forward screen. "Take care of our second officer," he stated warmly.

Admiral DeSoto nodded and returned the smile. "We'll take good care of her."

The Euridian communications officer behind DeSoto spoke up. "Transporter room says she's aboard safe and sound."

DeSoto stood up. "Amazing, even with this new, fancy, schmancy ship, I'm still hauling my butt back and forth between starbases. You take care of yourself, Jean-Luc."

Picard stood up. "Enjoy your retirement, Robert. You've earned it."

Not knowing where this standing thing came from, Stephen decided to stand as well. "Thanks again, Admiral."

DeSoto nodded. "Safe travels, Warlord. Hood out." The image returned to space. 


	7. Chapter 7

"Captain's log, stardate: 57129.3, Commander Kirk reporting. We just broke warp and are inside the Sol system. We'll be docking at Spacedock in about two hours. Although we've been promised two weeks off, Starfleet has already begged Tom and me to come back a day early to make sure the new cannon mount plating was installed correctly. I really don't know why they asked me; engineering was never a strong point of mine. They could install painted styrofoam and I wouldn't know. At any rate, this will be my last log entry for two weeks. I wish I was more excited about that than I am."

The mushroom shape of the enormous Spacedock steadily grew in size on the front viewscreen against Earth's swirling backdrop of blue, green and white. Commander Kirk took another look around at the people on the bridge. Sitting in T'Nia's usual seat sat the blue skinned, white antennaed Andorian, Lieutenant M'ovara. As was typical, he sat completely straight, despite the seat's design which allowed the occupant to sit back. To his left sat the young and thin Ensign Tyler Bristol, the British navigator. Like himself, Tyler didn't seem to be overly anxious to return home. 

Sitting to Kirk's left was Colonel "Slam" Prichard, a tall, thin human in his forties who almost always wore his Marine fatigues. Somehow, despite swearing he shaved every day, he had an eternal five o'clock shadow of brown and gray hair, which matched his military burr atop his head. To Stephen's right, in the normally designated first officer's seat, sat Admiral Picard. As of the past couple of days, Picard had made himself at home on the bridge. Stephen didn't mind at all. Jean-Luc's tales of the Stargazer and the Enterprise kept the crew captivated for hours.

Behind Kirk and off his left shoulder was the auxiliary engineering console, manned by Lieutenant Tom Kelly. The australian's brown, wavy hair was a bit longer than standard military scissors would have cut, but no had said anything yet. While his primary display had been listing engine output specifications, the smaller screen, which he been paying much more attention to, was displaying the weather forecast for Brisbane for the next two weeks. Next to Kelly sat Lieutenant Elaine Davies. She had matured dramatically since she first arrived. She barely said a word to anyone, leading Stephen to wonder why Captain Velasquez had selected her. Through her friendship with Tony, however, she had really come into her own and allowed the rest of the crew to see her fiesty, snappy personality. Next to her, seated at the systems administration console, of course, was Stephen's best friend, Lieutenant Tony Moreau. His outgoing, sometimes obnoxious personality occasionally rubbed people the wrong way, but he and Elaine seemed to be made for each other. 

There was an unoccupied auxiliary console to Tony's right, then finally, seated at the still-new science station was Commander Kenyon Richards. The change in Kenyon over the past couple of weeks had been rather dramatic. When he first arrived, he had been talkative and confident; almost to the point of arrogance. After the Battle of Cardassia Prime, however, he mellowed quite a bit. He was still fun to be around, but the 'nothing phases me' attitude he once had was gone. It was a pleasant change, as long as it didn't cause him to question himself at a critical moment.

Lieutenant Davies turned around, her shoulder length blonde hair whipping around behind her. "Commander, the dockmaster says we are to proceed around to door three. She'll take control of the navigation once we've finished our turn."

Kirk nodded. Without turning around, he replied, "Acknowledge that, Lieutenant." He leaned forward. "Bristol, swing us around."

"Aye, aye, Commander," Tyler replied quickly. "It's getting so I could do this in my sleep."

Kirk smiled. "Let's not try today... I hear the side of that thing is awfully unforgiving."

"Guess I'll save it till next time, Sir," Tyler replied with a smile.

As two, giant doors with the number three spread across them opened, the ship slowed. Slowly, the image of the open portal began to tilt, causing most of the bridge crew to tilt their heads, observe each other doing the same thing, then laugh. "You don't suppose they'll ever get around to widening that door so we'll fit, do you?" Colonel Prichard asked jovially.

Picard shrugged. "If they had to go through as much bureaucratic nonsense to make the door as they did to make the ship, then no."

The viewscreen showed the doors silently sliding out of view, exposing the inside of pier three. Inside the brightly lit, vast expanse were two other ships. Docked along the left wall was the USS Leeds, a Nebula-class explorer. It's distinctive kidney shaped saucer section pointed towards the door as three, small repair shuttled floated under the hull. The USS Trinculo, a Galaxy-class explorer, was docked at the center bay. It shared the same kidney-shaped saucer section as the Nebula-class, but where the Nebula essentially rested atop its two warp nacells, the Galaxy had a secondary hull under the saucer section and the nacells were attached to it instead. It was facing away from the door, which forced the long nacells to protrude into the pier farther than the bridge crew was comfortable.

Apparently, the dockmaster was already aware of the tight fit. As the Warlord came to a stop, maneuvering thrusters forced Warlord down, until it almost touched the bottom of the crevasse. Slowly, other thrusters were brought online to push the Warlord forward and underneath the Trinculo's engines as the crew held their breath.

Elaine turned around again to face the bridge. "The dockmaster says not to worry. The Trinculo will be leaving in three days."

Prichard turned around. "Tell her if she can threat this needle without scratching the paint, I'll buy her a drink."

Slowly, the great ship pushed itself upwards and slid into the starboard dock. A number of muffled clanks barely echoed through the ship, indicating docking clamps had locked onto the ship and walkways were being extended. Stephen patted the arms of the captain's chair with his hands and stood up. "Alright, people... we're home again. Let's get out of here." 


	8. Chapter 8

Having finished packing his suitcase, Stephen silently bid farewell to his quarters as the narrow double doors slid shut with a quiet hiss. As he walked down the gently curing hallway of olive and gray panels, his mind drifted to the next two weeks. Thankfully, he had very little planned. He and Box would spend a couple of days in Houston once the inquiry panel was over. Then, they'd head down to the Florida Keys for some boating and maybe some diving... if he could convince Box to get back in the water again. The two had planned to meet up with Tony sometime next week, but then he mentioned something about Lieutenant Davies coming to visit, so who knew what that would do. At some point during the next three days, he had an open invitation to take a tour of the USS Enterprise, at Admiral Picard's request. Assuming the board of inquiry didn't completely tear him to pieces, he would take the admiral up on his offer.

Stephen passed the doors leading to the late Captain Bolerov's quarters. They had been sealed with a large, round magnetic device with a handful of colorful, glowing lights on the front. He paused a moment to reflect on the captain he never really knew... never really wanted to know... until it was too late. Bolerov's first impression of him had been less than stellar. Ever since then, they had been at odds with each other, despite neither one's desire to be there. Bolerov had taken a number of verbal swipes at his faith. Kirk, in turn, questioned several of the captain's decisions. Their relationship had never been anything other than tenuous, except for one, brief moment after Stephen had been shot. That had been the only time, that Stephen could remember, when Andrei Bolerov had ever taken the time to explain himself.

If only Stephen had taken some time to read the captain's service record. If only he had known what the captain had gone through. If only... those were the only words left after their four months serving together. Now, there was one more death on the Warlord. Admiral Wellington would have a field day, no doubt. He shuddered to think of the confidence-tearing remarks the admiral had in store during the inquiry. Maybe he could just call in sick...

Stephen's twelve-legged arachnid friend scampered around the corner with a large, red pack strapped over his translucent thorax. "Hhhhthere you are," he whispered through a makeshift voicebox he created on the left side of his abdomen.

Kirk shook his head to clear the daze. "Sorry," he offered weakly.

Box sucked in more air, then blew it through his voicebox. "Hhhhyou know it was not your fault, yes?" he asked. Box tilted his basketball sized head and leveled his four front, black, pupilless eyes at his friend.

Stephen wasn't so sure. "I suppose," he offered, "but it doesn't change the fact we've gone through two captains in six months. That's got to be a record somewhere."

Box considered the statement for a moment. "Hhhhperhaps they can make an EMH for bridge personnel." Box opened his large, sharp-toothed maw and smiled.

Stephen pursed his lips. "Very funny. Are you ready to go?"

Box bent one of his legs back and patted his backpack. "Hhhhall packed."

Stephen slung the black strap of his unremarkable, gray hardshell suitcase over his shoulder. "Then let's go. The line for the spacedock transporter is probably already a half kilometer long by now.

They made their way down the hall and towards the turbolift doors. The twin doors of the turbolift silently slid open and Stephen motioned for Box to enter first. Being a much larger creature, Box needed a few moments to 'adjust' himself once he wiggled his way through the doors. Box scooted his way through the doors with a little effort and made his way towards the back. The small, round room that normally held six human sized creatures, suddenly became mildly claustrophobic as Kirk maneuvered inside. "Have you been putting on weight?" Stephen asked.

Box pivoted his head around to let his numerous eyes scan his body. "Hhhhi am not sure where I would put it," he answered simply.

Kirk shook his head. "Cute." Truthfully, Stephen had missed his friend's simple sense of humor and was looking forward to spending some more time with Box in Houston. He looked up at the white, glowing ceiling. "Deck four, section six." The circular room gently jolted to life as it began its trek down and sideways.

It stopped moments later... much sooner than expected. The doors slid open revealing Doctor Rass Dorrin, patiently standing in the hallway holding a pair of canvas-looking bags. As he absently began to walk inside, he looked up and jumped back quickly. "Ya!" he yelled, dropping his bags. Despite his initial conversations with Lieutenant Box, Dorrin still had to admit to a certain level of xenophobia when it came to the large, spider-looking crewmate. Thankfully, over the past several months, Dorrin had at least made enough progress to be more ashamed of the behavior than proud.

Stephen pursed his lips as he stared at the panicked doctor. Part of him wanted to help the bajoran doctor with his bags, but considering it was his own panic towards the hamalki that caused it, Stephen refrained. "I guess you're going our way?" Stephen asked.

Dorrin recovered as best he could while grabbing his bags again. "Sorry, gentlemen," he offered weakly. An excuse came to his mind quickly. "I wasn't expecting anyone in the turbolift. I'm not normally a 'pick-up'. My mind was on the travel demo for the place I'm going." He boarded the turbolift, forcing himself to stand next to the large, semi-transparant spider. The doors slid closed behind him and the small room was back on its way.

"Sounds like you found a place to visit," Stephen offered, after several moments of awkward silence.

Dorrin smiled and nodded. "Yes... I'm going to Mars... a city called New Las Vegas. It sounds absolutely fabulous. It has casinos, dance shows, replicas of all the major attractions on Earth..."

Kirk's eyes widened. "I can honestly say I've never been there."

Without thinking, Dorrin countered, "Why don't you two come with me? We could make a bachelor's vacation out of it." For a moment, it sounded like a great idea. He could bond with Commander Kirk and get to know Box better while having the commander as a safety net.

Stephen thought about it for a moment. Considering where he'd be spending at least a couple of days during the first week, New Las Vegas sounded like a great alternative. "Well, I may take you up on that next week, Doctor," Stephen countered, trying to sound encouraging. "I've got some administrative stuff to do this week, so I'll be stuck on earth."

What came out of Dorrin's mouth next surprised even Dorrin. "How about you, Box? Care to join me?" It surprised Stephen, too.

Truthfully, it surprised Box, too. "Hhhhi..." he started. Three of his eyes stared intently on Stephen, hoping he would say something. Typically, he didn't. "Hhhhi had made plans to stay with Commander Kirk for our vacation..." After all, Stephen was family... but... at some point, he would need to become familiar with the rest of the crew. It had taken several months before he felt comfortable aboard the Ballista. Besides, the doctor had made sincere attempts to get to know him better. "Hhhhwould you or your family mind?" Box asked quietly.

Stephen's eyes widened briefly as he realized Box was actually considering the offer. "Um..." Perhaps this would be a good idea. Perhaps the doctor had no idea what he was asking. Perhaps he'd ask the hotel owner to place security cameras around the room so he could get a good laugh. Stephen shrugged. "It's okay by me... as long as you're okay with it, Box."

Box made a smile with his oversized mouth. "Hhhhthen I accept, doctor," he answered gleefully.

What was he THINKING? Why did he make that offer? He was going to be stuck with a giant bug for two weeks on an alien world. "Great..." he said slowly, trying to think of a dignified way out of this. "I do have a conference I'll be attending for a couple of days next week. Will that bother you?"

Box shook his round head. "Hhhhnot at all. I can occupy myself."

Dorrin thought about it more. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea, after all. He never did get to spend much time with his hamalki crewmate, but the few times they did talk, it was fascinating. This could also be a good opportunity for him to get over his xenophobia. As research had proven, sometimes full immersion into fears is an effective way best them. He straightened up and smiled. "Perfect. This will be fun." That last comment was more an act to convince himself than anyone else. 


	9. Chapter 9

Stephen, Box, and Dorrin made their way through the unsually full space dock. The wide, gently curved hallway was brightly lit from lighting hidden in the ceiling. The carpet was a patterned, light blue, with the left-side, interior wall horizontally lined with wide, dark blue, gray and white stripes. The stripes were occasionally interrupted with white, tan, and green colored double-doors. Eventually, they came upon an open area, the public transport pads. The line was several dozen deep, populated mostly by Warlord crewmembers attempting to get planetside. The conversations were varied and loud in an attempt to ensure their discussion was heard over the others as well as other background noise. Immediately in front of them were Tyler Bristol and Tom Kelly, the chief helmsman and chief engineer. They were alredy dressed their civilian clothes and engaged in some kind of healthy discussion.

"Hey, guys," Stephen announced as his group approached.

"... so I told him there's no way I'm gonna..." Tom stopped short and turned around. "Hey, Commander," he replied with a smile.

"Commander," Tyler replied with a nod of respect.

The five men took their turns greeting each other. "So, where are you guys heading?" Doctor Rass inquired.

"Back home to Mum and Dad, I guess," Tyler replied dejectedly. Truth was, Tyler wasn't looking forward to going home. Before he had his discussion with the commander, Tyler already discussed his 'misjudgement' with his mother, who quickly deduced she was right and he had no business being out in space putting his life, and the lives of others, at risk. For a moment, weeks ago, he had entertained the notion of quitting Starfleet after his current term was over and taking over his father's pub. Tyler's discussion with Commander Kirk had changed all that, but Tyler's mother was like a ravenous dog with a piece of meat at the notion he might come home to stay soon.

"I'm heading home to see my girl," Tom replied with a wide smile.

Doctor Rass cocked his head with a memory of Lieutenant Kelly from less than two weeks ago. "You have a girl on Earth, too?" The rest of the group turned a curious eye to Tom as well.

Tom shrugged his shoulders in disbelief. "What ya talking about, Doc? I only got one fiancee."

"Fiancee?" Dorrin mimicked in disbelief. "Isn't that part of a formal human mating ritual?"

The group nodded. "Yeah," Tom answered.

Dorrin cast his thumb in the general direction of the Warlord. "Didn't I see you with Lieutenant... oh... Lieutenant... what's-her-face... in the Officer's Lounge a week ago?"

Tom's eyes widened. There were several people in the lounge that night. He didn't do much with Nari in the lounge, did he? Well, it's not like he did much with her AWAY from the lounge, either... "Oh," Kelly admitted, "I was just offering her some words of encouragement."

The group cast a sideways glance of disbelief at Tom. Doctor Rass raised his eyebrow as well. "From what I saw of the two of you, there wasn't much time for talking."

Tom shrugged it off with a wave of his hand. "It was just playful fun. Nothing really happened. You know... I'm engaged... I'm not married yet." He added a wink. Tom had rationalized it days ago. In his mind, Corina would be happy to know that, despite the temptations of other women, he's stayed mostly true to her... and he kept coming back. That had to mean something more than a simple make-out session after a time of great stress and turmoil. Well, that would be his defense if she ever found out... which she wouldn't.

Rass shook his head. "The subtlties of human mating rituals still baffle me. That must be why there are so many books on the matter."

Kirk perked his head up at the sound of his name. "Steve?" The voice was familiar. "Steve... over here."

Stephen looked forward in line to see Tony Moreau and Elaine Davies several places in front of them. Tony and Elaine had both turned around and were waving. They, too, were already dressed in civilian clothes. Now that Stephen looked around, his uniform was quite out of place with the rest of his crew. "Hey, Tone," he replied loudly.

Tony pointed back to his friend, noticing he still wasn't thrilled about the days to come. "We're still on for Saturday, right?"

Stephen nodded. "Wouldn't miss it." Suddenly, he realized where Box would be. He turned to his twelve-legged friend. "Are you going to join us in Chicago Saturday, or are you going to stay on Mars?"

Box raised his left-front leg and scratched his head. "Hhhhi will be there."

Stephen nodded. "Okay, I'll just meet you at Chicago Transit around six o'clock, okay?"

Box nodded.

Stephen raised his voice again. "Yeah, we'll be there."

"Excellent," Tony replied. This would be great. He was making real progress with Elaine. Although he was hesitant to admit it to others, deep down, he thought he could have a serious... maybe even long-term relationship with her. She was bright, fun, adventurous... and best of all... was starting to like football. Still, sometimes, there almost seemed to be something between them. She was holding something back. That made him nervous. But... he decided not to let that matter. He was heading back to Chicago now. Elaine was going back to Canada for a couple of days, but would then join him and his brother. He had truly missed his big brother this time around. Somehow, relaying subspace messages back and forth just wasn't enough any more.

Tyler perked his head around to Rass and Box. "Where are you guys going?" He inquired.

"Hhhhnew Las Vegas on Mars," Box answered with a wide, toothy smile.

Tyler longed to escape to a place like that. It would certainly be better than where he was heading. "That sounds like fun," the young ensign answered.

This was quite an opportunity, Dorrin thought. He gave the thin ensign a pat on the arm. "Why don't you and Lieutenant Kelly join us?"

Tom considered it for a moment. There were girls by the dozens there... but, no. Perhaps that was TOO much temptation. He shook his head with a smile. "Na... I really need to get back to my Corina-cake."

"I'd love to!" Tyler exclaimed with an enthusiasm that made the rest of the group jump, too.

Doctor Rass turned to Box. "Do you mind if he joins us?" He asked expectantly.

"Hhhhnot at all. The more, the merrier," Box answered. This would be wonderful, he thought. A chance to bond with two of his crewmates AND experience a new place. He had always been considered strange by the other hamalki because of his willingness to explore and try new things. Granted, by Stephen's standards, he was entirely too habitual, but he was thinking as a human, not a hamalki.

Dorrin slapped his hands together. "Then, it's settled. Our transport leaves in three hours. We've got plenty of time to make sure you get a seat on it." Dorrin picked up his bags. "Box and I were heading to the main lounge to wait. Do you want to come?"

Tyler scooped up his two, dark green bags. "Absolutely! I can call my Mum from there and tell her there's been a change of plans." He was downright giddy thinking he'd be able to spend time with fellow officers who would understand him better.

Elaine snapped her fingers. "Commander!" She called out.

Stephen turned back around. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"I noticed you never opened that message from Romulus. It's over two weeks old. If you want, I can relay it to your home. I can do it from that terminal over there." She pointed to an unmanned computer panel protruding from a pedestal next to them.

It was from T'osa. He had already seen that. Stephen's feelings for her were mixed. He was definately attracted to her, but had been convincing himself that was all it was. Their last combat had proven to him the need for absolute trust in the people you associated with. How could he possibly have that with an admitted romulan spy? "Don't worry about it," Stephen answered while curious eyes looked on. "I'll take care of it. Thanks, anyway."

Elaine shrugged. A private message from Romulus in addition to the confidential information the commander had asked from her just before Christmas was curious indeed. He had promised to give her more information... but never did. "Perhaps I'll corner him on it when he visits Tony," she thought. Her mind swam with the multitute of politically motivated theories. To have an inside track on something big going on with Romulus... well, that would be... wow. "Okay... I'll talk to you Saturday," she said with a knowing smile.

The line continued its slow progression forward until Elaine was ready to step on. Doctor Rass turned to Stephen and Tom. "I guess we should head to the lounge. If and when either of you wants to join us, please do."

Stephen pointed to Box. "I'll see you Saturday."

Box smiled. "Hhhhsix o'clock. I will be there."

"Win some money for me," Tom offered.

"Hhhhwhy?" Box asked simply.

"Well," Tom started. Okay, it's not like money means anything within the Federation anymore... but that wasn't the point. "I... well... it's just a figure of... oh, I don't know." Tom threw his hands up. "Why bother gambling in a society where money doesn't matter?"

It was a good question, Dorrin thought... but they'd find out. After all, tens of thousands of tourists are there every day. There had to be SOMETHING to it. 


	10. Chapter 10

Commander Kirk dropped his single bag on the oversized hotel room bed. As he approached the sliding patio door, he could see the skyline of San Francisco and, in the distance, the Golden Gate bridge. Despite the large numbers of flying craft darting about, if he concentrated, he could hear the sound of the ocean, a quiet roar behind the sound of wind and machines. The clerk had been able to secure him a room on the twenty-fourth floor in the northern face which, in Stephen's opinion, offered the greatest view of the city. A hint of salt air crossed his nose and he breathed deeply. Having lived in Texas for several years, he had seen the Gulf of Mexico several times. It never failed to take his breath away. Stephen's memories drifted back several weeks ago when his friend, Box, experienced the ocean for the first time. His reaction to the crashing waves was almost as funny as the beachgoers reaction to HIM. Looking towards the beach, he saw hundreds of people laying out, reading, playing with their children in the sand, wading out into the water... enjoying life. Maybe... perhaps... when this was over... Stephen would be able to sit out there and relax... but not now.

He turned back around and examined the large room again. The red and gold patterned wallpaper was, or so the clerk informed him, was an exact replica of the wallpaper used when the Mandarin Oriental was first built. The plush, golden carpet was soft under his feet, which inclined him to take his shoes off. Walking past the bathroom door, he took in the immense size of it, including the giant spa tub. He'd probably use that every night. An overstuffed, salmon colored chair sat next to the large and inviting bed. Exhaling deeply, he collapsed on it, laid his head back, and closed his eyes for several moments. For some reason, he couldn't help but feel this was a sort of last meal before the execution. The inquiry was tomorrow at eight o'clock sharp. If Wellington had his way, Stephen wouldn't be leaving until he had turned in his command pips and was holding a broom.

It felt as though the weight of several worlds was on him. His captain had comitted suicide, his ship had narrowly escaped a fierce gunfight with a hidden Dominion fleet, he had held the fate of an entire Cardassian race in his hands, he had bet against the orders of his superiors to save a handful of dignitaries and then there was... T'osa. T'osa, the self-admitted romulan spy who had supposedly befriended him, then almost got him killed after she convinced him to infiltrate a docked warbird. Stephen desperately longed for his life to be less... complicated. Still, the memory of T'osa was mostly pleasant, even if her original mission was to seduce him... well, it still WAS her mission, but she had admitted it to him because she needed a friend... or maybe she was still playing him... it gave him a headache.

Remembering he had a message from her still unseen, he looked at the black panel in the wall opposite the chair and called out, "Computer."

A male, but effeminate computerized voice replied, "Online and ready to serve." The voice made Stephen stare incredulously at the screen. He had never heard a voice like that come from a computer. Perhaps he was too insulated being out in space.

After a moment's pause, the computer added, "Is something wrong? I can adjust the room's environmental controls if you wish. Perhaps you'd like me to schedule a massage for you..."

Okay, that was weird. He wasn't used to a computer offering leisure suggestions. "No, no," he replied quickly. "I want you to link with the Starfleet central repository."

"I will need your credentials in order to access that computer," the voice replied melodically.

"Uh, yeah... sure," he replied, still shaking his head. "Commander Kirk, Stephen F. Authorization sigma, five, one, five, gamma."

The golden, triangular Starfleet logo appeared on the screen. "I have established access with the Starfleet system. What would you like me to do?" The computer asked hopefully.

"Link with the USS Warlord's communication system. I have a message waiting." Kirk replied hesitantly. He still wasn't sure he wanted to listen to it. The past several weeks had just been a futher complication to his life. He hadn't spent much time thinking about the opposite sex, but in the back of his mind, he had figured on eventually finding a nice, quiet woman to settle down with. T'osa was certainly not that. She was dangerous, in more ways than one.

"I have located the message. Downloading," the computer added. A few seconds later, the computer concluded, "Message has been downloaded. Would you like me to play it for you?"

Stephen took a deep breath. Although the word "no" was on the tip of his tongue, he somehow found himself saying, "Yes."

T'osa, from the waste up, appeared on the screen. She was in a typical, romulan uniform; a golden brown outfit made of angled, squared fabric. A large, squared collar of the same material crossed the front of her neck as it wrapped around. Unlike typical romulan uniforms, hers was of a softer material, which highlighted her curves more than normal uniforms. Her straight, light brown hair had also grown a bit longer since he last saw her. Her large, amber colored eyes still sparkled. Although her chin was well chiseled, the rest of her facial features were quite soft, down to the barely noticable ridges in her forehead. Despite his thoughts of 'turn it off', he found himself smiling at her face. 

The voice, however, brought him back to reality like a slap in the face. "Hello, Commander," she said in a demure, but accented voice. Secretly, she had revealed to him that she spoke perfect English and was far from demure, but was forced to use this voice because that was what the romulan government said he would be most attracted to. The fact she was using it again just reminded him of her initial plans to deceive him. "Unfortunately, I am at work right now," she said slowly, an obvious hint that she wouldn't be able to talk freely, "so I cannot talk long. I wanted to state again how pleasant it was to spend the evening with you. I am sorrowful that I have not had the chance to talk to you more, but I have been told you are on an assignment and cannot talk." She leaned in closer to the screen. "I have learned a great many things and would like to share them with you." For a moment, her eyes grew intense. Obviously, she was referring to a theory she had about romulans and remans working together to help bring down the current government... well, that was HER theory, anyway. Part of that had been proven by their 'break in' of the romulan warbird. She sat back and her look returned to its 'innocent' charm. "I hope I can see you again..."

The door chime to his room rang, causing Stephen to slip out of his daze. "Computer, pause." The image of T'osa froze on the screen. Still confused as to who would be ringing his door, he announced, "It's open."

The wooden door slid open to reveal a five foot, six inch human woman in her late twenties with strawberry blonde hair slung back into a single pony tail behind her. She wore a brown and red jumpsuit with a long, narrow band of black as sunglasses. She smiled broadly. "Heya, Dirtbutt." Her voice was high-pitched, a little raspy, and very familiar.

Stephen jumped out of the chair and raced for the door. He grabbed her around the waist and picked her up in a big hug. She returned the favor by wrapping her arms around his neck. "Heya, Sis!" he shouted. It was a wonderful surprise to see her. Eventually he put her down as she removed her now misaligned sunglasses. "What are you doing here?"

Kathrine playfully pushed him backwards into his room. "You sounded depressed about this meeting you're gonna have tomorrow. So, I talked it over with David and we figured we'd take a couple of days off and take a mini vacation. I hope you don't mind," she said with an even bigger smile, "we're right around the corner." She pointed down the hall to the right.

"You didn't have to do that," Stephen countered sincerely. Technically, he was thrilled to have family with him. The thought of going through whatever tomorrow would bring alone really disturbed him. Even though Admiral Leonard would be there, he'd be there in an official capacity, not as a mentor.

Kathrine's playful smile disappeared into a softer, more sincere smile. "Of course I did. Ain't no one beats up on my brother except me... remember?" Those words echoed in Stephen's mind from at least a dozen different memories he had as a child. The truth was, it was her mouth, not his, that usually started fights... and it was him, not her, who had to come to the rescue. 

Still, it was the thought that counted. No matter what, he could always count on his family. That was, at least, one area of his life that wasn't complex. "Thanks," he said quietly. Perking up, he added, "So, David's here, too?" 

She nodded. "Yep, and Charlie. Ever since we started talking about coming to San Francisco, he's been going on and on about seeing the Bridge and swimming in the Pacific. I tried tellin' him that it looks just like the Gulf, but YOU try telling that to a four year old and see how far THAT goes."

Kirk shook his head. "Charlie's four?" Had time really flown by that quickly? Was he actually starting to feel... old? "Geez... I can remember when you were pregnant."

She patted her stomach and looked at Stephen knowingly. "Well, it's not just a memory." Stephen's eyes bulged. She nodded, "I'm pregnant again."

Stephen chuckled. "Wow... you guys must be happy. Do you know when it's due?"

"'It's' a she," Kathrine corrected, "praise the Lord, and SHE'S not due until September."

"My gosh," Stephen remarked. His little sister really was all grown up. Well, sure... he had come to that conclusion years ago. She certainly seemed happy with her life.

Kathrine raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. "So, when will Charlie be getting a little cousin to play with?" She asked playfully. With her head cocked, she could see the image of a pointed-eared woman on the computer panel behind him. She was very attractive. She stared for a moment, then whistled. "Who's the vulcan chick?" She asked, pointing to the screen.

Startled at the fact T'osa's face was still on the monitor, he spun around. "Um," he stumbled, "she's romulan, not vulcan."

Kathrine nodded with a sly grin. "I see... consorting with the enemy, huh? Am I interrupting a conversation?"

Kirk shook his head. "No, no... it's just a message. Some... romulan diplomat stuff."

His sister shook her head. "You are SUCH a crappy liar. Were you planning on replying to her?"

Seeing his sister and knowing she dropped everything just to come and support him was just the encouraging thought he needed to realize who he could trust... and who he couldn't. He didn't need T'osa to complicate his life any more than it already was. Let her solve her riddles on her own. "No," he replied finally, "I wasn't planning on replying." He turned back to the computer, confident in his decision. "Computer... erase message." 


	11. Chapter 11

The silvery Vulcan transport, a short, wide tube with a cuff around the aft third, gently settled onto the landing platform accompanied by several loud hisses from the braking jets. T'Nia turned her head in the cramped transport to look out the window. Outside, through the remnants of a sandstorm that had caused the flight to be delayed by an hour, she could see the rugged outline of the city of Kedrithe, the city where she grew up. It was located in the Albic quadrant of the Eliph province and just to the west of Nasha, where her betrothed was from. The rough-hewn red and yellow stone of the buildings and spired were barely discernable in front of the jagged Dekorth Mountains behind them, even though they were several kilometers away. Several minutes passed before the transport powered down its main engines and the remnants of the sandstorm were completely gone. As the half full transport of mostly vulcans stood and began to gather their belongings, T'Nia continued staring out the window.

It had been four years since her last visit... home. That word seemed somehow inappropriate for Vulcan. For several millenia, vulcans had considered themselves the center of civilization and culture in the galaxy. The discovery of logic as the center of existance only served to further their belief. The discovery of dozens of other races did nothing to quell the belief. In fact, to many, it only served to reinforce it. Unlike other races, who chose to openly embrace each others differences and similarities, vulcans remained distant. It was an unspoken fact that such mingling of cultures and beliefs would only contaminate the vulcan way. Perhaps her beliefs were a result of that contamination. Perhaps Sekir was right. Staring out at the foreign land that was her birth home didn't help to settle the confusion. Slowly, she stood up, removed two of her bags from the forward storage, and exited the transport.

As T'Nia stepped out the hatchway, the low, afternoon sun kicked up the southern breeze across her face. She was instantly greeted with another sensation that made her... uncomfortable. She felt warm... very warm. In the midst of disembarking passengers, transportation employees, and waiting loved ones, she could easily make out the tall, thin body of her betrothed. Sekir stood stoically, his hand raised in a barely discernable wave. As always, his dark brown hair was cut very short, emphasizing his large, pointed ears. His rounded face sat atop a tall, thin frame; taller than most vulcans. Considering T'Nia was rather short for a vulcan female, the two made an interesting pair with over twenty centimeters separating them. It seemed ironic to her that they had a difficult time seeing eye-to-eye... both figuratively and literally. Gradually, she made her way down the moving exit ramp and found her third piece of luggage being carefully removed from the cargo bay underneath.

Sekir approached her dressed in the typical attire of a local councilperson. The robe was plain brown with dark brown edges. A gold patterned sash kept the robe closed. Under the robe, a bright red shirt clearly showed through. Around his neck he wore the Ale-na kere, a jeweled, golden necklace marking his position in the council. As he approached, he raised his right hand and extended his pointer and middle fingers together as a sign of affection.

T'Nia sighed silently, realizing she would have to set down one of her bags in order to complete the greeting. Obediently, she did so. Raising her hand and returning the gesture, she touched his extended fingers with hers. "Greetings, Sekir," she said emotionlessly.

"It is good to see you, my betrothed," Sekir replied with equal detachment. He reached towards the largest piece of luggage she was carrying. "Allow me to carry this for you."

She handed it over quickly... almost throwing it into his waiting hands. "That would be fine,"

Surprised, he backed up two steps before regaining his composure. "I... it is good to see you," he repeated.

T'Nia raised an eyebrow. "You already said that, Sekir." Could he be nervous about their meeting?

"How was your flight?" He asked as he started for the transporter pads inside.

"Uneventful," she replied, following him, "except for the extra orbit we had to make while we waited for the sandstorm to pass."

Sekir nodded. "The sandstorms are always bad this time of year. Your mother has requested we go straight to her house. Is that acceptable to you?"

T'Nia shrugged. "It was the plan I had expected." After passing through the automatic doors to the transport center, they stood in line for several minutes, patiently waiting their turn. The sandstone walls were painted a soft tan color. Several reproductions of paintings hung against the walls. Lining the near wall, behind a perfectly polished wooden counter, a pair of vulcans held discussions with a customs agent. Off to their left, a trio of large-eared Ferengi surrounded a desk attempting to pursuade a vulcan to let them speak with the Eliph governor.

T'Nia felt like she needed to ask him SOMETHING... take some kind of interest in what he did. These odd moments of silence only served to magnify just how little she knew the man she would soon call husband. "How is your work, Sekir?" she asked finally.

His face brightened a bit at the question. "Well, my recent appointment as district councilman has proven to be quite interesting," he began. "I am learning a great deal about local politics."

T'Nia did everything in her power to prevent a very human reaction to this news... the eye roll. Having him as the inventory control at the museum where her parents worked made their few previous discussions boring enough. Life as the wife of a politician? She momentarily lost control and gave in to an eye roll. She desperately hoped he didn't see that. Apparently, he didn't.

"For example," Sekir continued, lost in his recent memories, "there has been a considerable amount of discussion over an extension of the local Temple of Surak. The only logical location to expand would infringe on two of the stalls in the marketplace, which would dramatically lower the inventory they could have on hand..."

"What was it Tony kept saying at times like this?" she thought. "Oh, yes... 'think of a happy place.'" 


	12. Chapter 12

"Ladies, gentlemen, trans-gendered and non-gendered species, this is the captain speaking. We are about to enter the upper orbit of Mars. We will be firing our braking thrusters momentarily, so please take your seats and fasten your restraining equipment. For those of you interested, Mount Olympus, known natively as Olympus Mons, will be visible out the port side in just over five minutes. We expect to land in New Las Vegas in approximately forty-five minutes." The image of the ship's captain vanished from the small video screen built into the back of the headrest in front of Doctor Rass. Although the transport ship could hold over twelve hundred people, the seats were entirely too close together for his liking. He had been a nervous wreck for the entire trip, which had only lasted ninety minutes. Tyler was suprised the flight crew hadn't tossed his friend out an airlock seconds after they broke Earth orbit. "Thank the prophets," he mumbled, still gripping the armrests of his seat tightly.

"If you don't like space travel, what on earth made you decide to be a starship medical officer?" Tyler asked curiously.

"It's not the space travel I mind," Dorrin shot back quickly. "I don't like how they have us crammed in here like livestock."

Tyler looked around, confused. "Doctor," he started cautiously, "the ship is barely two-thirds full. There isn't even anyone sitting next to you."

Dorrin began to get frustrated again. "That's my point! We're already crammed in here and they've got room for more. Can you imagine what would happen to us if the air handlers failed? What if the engines failed? We'd be stuck adrift! Why couldn't we have just used the transporters?" His face was starting to turn red again.

Within moments, a young, attractive human female attendant approached his seat. "Doctor... you look upset again," she started slowly and with a calm voice. "If you need another muscle relaxer..."

"I'll be fine," he replied curtly.

Carol, the attendant, looked a bit exasperated, but tried to hide it behind a smile. This was, after all, her fifth time to his seat. "Alright, Doctor. We'll be landing very shortly." She patted him on the shoulder. "You've done very well." With that, she returned to her station.

Doctor Rass harumphed. "Like I need some ship attendant patronizing me."

"I really don't think..." Tyler started. He was interrupted by a large, crystalline head suddenly appearing from behind him. The sudden appearance of Box startled them both. In order to fit Box into the transport, the maintenance crew had to remove two of the three seats in the row behind Tyler and Dorrin. Of course, this left Box unrestrained in the event of turbulance. Box assured them that his twelve legs would help keep him stable.

"Hhhhnow that we are almost there," Box hissed, "why are we going?"

Getting his breath back, Tyler turned around to greet the disquieting translucent face. "You mean you don't know anything about New Las Vegas?" Box shook his head and smiled. "Then, how come you're going?"

"Hhhhit sounded like fun... a grand adventure," Box replied.

Forgetting the ever shrinking ship around him, Dorrin stopped to consider the spider's statement. After meeting Box on the transport to the Vega shipyard, he took it upon himself to study Box's race, the Hamalki. Generally speaking, they were quite shy and didn't care to be out of their comfort zone. "You truly are unique among your people, aren't you, Box?" Dorrin remarked.

Box simply smiled and shook, causing a tinkling sound similar to wind chimes... Hamalki laughter. Reaching into the seat in front of him, Dorrin retrieved a PADD from the sleeve and turned it on, revealing the travel brochure for New Las Vegas. He began to read. "'Welcome to New Las Vegas; a self-contained paradise nestled at the southernmost point of the Ma'adim Valley. This Martian hotspot of fun was lovingly crafted using ancient video recordings, photographs, and whenever possible, original blueprints from its Terran namesake. The result; New Las Vegas is a faithful representation of Las Vegas, Nevada before it was destroyed in 2027.

"'Started in 2158, the contruction of New Las Vegas took seventeen years to complete'..."

"Hhhhbut what is there to do?" Box interrupted anxiously.

Dorrin scrolled down the backlit display. "'Of course the main reason anyone comes to New Las Vegas is the gambling. We pride ourselves on having the most varied, all inclusive gaming experience in the known galaxy. Within walking distance, you can partake in a number of traditional human games of chance such as poker, blackjack, roulette, or craps. The fun doesn't stop with the Sol system, however. This twenty-first century town had a twenty-fourth century facelift! Irek-N'agh, dabo, dom-jat, strategem tournaments, and esferiss races are but a small sample of the games available courtesy of our neighbors in the alpha and beta quadrants.'"

"Hhhhgambling?" Box inquired. "I have never gambled before."

"Neither have I," Dorrin admitted. "Well, I have gambled with my life once or twice," he added with a smile.

"The only gambling I've ever done is dropping a few credits on a dart game at my Dad's pub," Tyler admitted.

"Hhhhthen, we are all in for an adventure," Box remarked hopefully. Although the thought of going to an alien world with people he barely knew was somewhat intimidating to Box, he had made the conscious decision he was going to go... and he was going to enjoy it. Still, the whole thing made him nervous.

"So... a human, a hamalki and a bajoran walk into a casino," Dorrin started with a smile, "sounds like the beginning of a joke." 


	13. Chapter 13

Elaine Davies plopped her bags down in her small Montreal apartment and collapsed in her favorite seat. As her last act of mock-defiance of Starfleet protocol, she partly unzipped the top of her uniform, kicked off her shoes, took the pins out of her hair, and shook her head wildly to let her long, blonde hair fall across her shoulders. After everything that had happened, it was good to be home. The weather was warming up nicely for April. The grass had already started to turn green and blossoms were on the trees outside her complex. Unlike last time, the air scrubbers had been working perfectly in her absence, leaving her bright yellow furniture virtually dust free. Her three, round faux wood tables were still cluttered with papers, empty glasses, two PADDs, and who-knows-what-else scattered about the small main room. Her two, favorite, cubist paintings hung crookedly on the walls opposite her viewscreen next to the front door. Momentarily, she considered getting up to fix them, then decided it was too much work and best left till tomorrow.

The suicide of Captain Bolerov had been upsetting, but not as upsetting as she would have thought. Perhaps it was because she never got to know him. Perhaps she was just getting used to life in the military. Perhaps she was just getting older. Perhaps it was a combination. In the end, she just didn't care. In three days, she was heading to Chicago to meet up with Tony. She was promised a tour of Chicago starting with some pizza place called... what was it? She couldn't remember the name... a horrible admission considering he kept going on and on about the place. Oh, it didn't matter. Elaine could feel herself growing to really enjoy his company. Tony was a free spirit, like her. The difference was, he was a little more grounded and set in his ways than her. He knew what he liked. Although he was willing to try new things, he quickly went back to his old favorites... just like this restaurant... whatever it was called. "Crap," she said out loud. "I'm going to have to remember that name before I see him."

Looking at the wall panel display, she saw the telltale red, blinking light to the right, indicating someone had left a message for her. The single, slow blink indicated it was a single message. Letting out a final, deep breath of relief for being home, she commanded, "Computer, playback message."

The display lit up with an image of her mother at their old house. The image made her smile. She hadn't seen her mother in almost a year. "Hello, hon," the smiling image of her mother began. Her reddish blonde hair was definately showing more gray than the other two combined now. The wrinkles beside her eyes had gotten deeper. "I got your message that you'd be coming home. I do hope you'll stop by this time and visit for awhile. I've missed you terribly, Laney." Laney... no one has ever called her that except her mom. Ever since her parents' divorce when she was thirteen, all she'd ever really known was her mom. Even when they were married, her dad had always worked too much. He spent many long hours at his office and most weekends. When the divorce was final, she found it hard to cry over a man she'd never really known. To her mother, the world revolved around her 'Little Laney'. If her mother ever knew about some of the messes she'd gotten into... it would devastate her. Still, the thought that Elaine had been intentionally avoiding spending time with her mother, was somehow... saddening to her now. She guessed it was because of the relationship Tony had with his family... she envied it. Of course, she quickly surmized Tony had never done some of the things SHE had done. After all, how many people endangered a peace treaty with the Federation by having an affair with Yeshedi ambassador?

Her mother took a deep breath. "Well, anyway, I'd love to see you. Why don't you contact me when you get in? I'll make your favorite dinner. Love you." Her mother kissed her two fingers, then pointed them at the screen before the image faded to black.

Elaine sat back in her favorite chair for several moments, imagining the discussions they'd have. She imagined her mother's reaction to some of her mistakes. Would she blame her? Would she blame herself? Her video panel beeped, bringing her out of her imagination. The information on the screen indicated it was Kristi, one of her old high school friends she always hung out with. "On screen," she announced to the computer. The bright face of the short, red-haired, former cheerleader filled her screen. Kristi was in her famous plaid, flannel pajamas, which Elaine found odd, since it was two in the afternoon. Kristi's face was without makeup and her hair was freshly washed.

"Hey, Puff!" Kristi yelled, referring to yet another nickname of Elaine's. Unfortunately, this one referred to a rather unfortunate incident with badly permed hair during her freshman year. "Glad to see you back in one piece!"

Elaine smirked with that last statement. The memories of her last visit to Earth, and the preceding events that brought her here, were distant, but still present. Apparently, Kristi remembered enough of the story in between drinks to make teasing statements. Back then, Elaine had been terrified enough of the battle to consider leaving Starfleet. Although she wanted to tell Kristi the comment wasn't particularly appreciated, she decided to keep it to herself. "What's up, Kristi?" she asked innocently.

"You know damn well what's up," the red head replied, feigning a sharp retort. "It's Saturday! You're home! We're hitting the Nightlight! If you want, I can swing by and pick you up, say 9:00?"

Elaine considered the proposal for a moment. Before her mouth could blurt out 'yes', her mind flashed images of her mother and Tony. Perhaps it was time to let go of 'the old college days' once and for all. "You know what?" Elaine started, "I think I'm going to have to bow out tonight. I haven't seen my Mom in awhile."

Kristi shrugged with a mild look of confusion on her face. "Okay... suit yourself. Maybe tomorrow?"

Elaine nodded, but wasn't really interested. "Maybe," she replied slowly.

"Great," Kristi added cheerfully. "I have to get ready to go. Give me a flash tomorrow... but make it after 1:00 or so. You know me... on the weekends, I don't get up before then. Bye!" The screen went black once again.

Elaine stared at the blank wall screen for several moments, regarding the old friend that had been on it. There were a lot of memories between her and Kristi, Peggy, Tina, Claudette and Jasime... the 'Half-dozen Brats', as they were called in high school. She shrugged and ran a finger blankly down the seam of the arm of the chair. She was almost thirty, for crying out loud... it was time to start growing up. "Computer," she started with authority. It was time to start setting things right. "put me through to my mother, Erin Davies, in Ottawa." 


	14. Chapter 14

It wasn't like he was going to make a good impression, but Stephen felt like he should at least be on time. He walked down the expansive hallway of the Starfleet Strategic Deployment Annex. The hallway itself was at least twenty meters across and dotted with small trees. Above him, the arched ceiling had numerous transparant sections allowing the daylight to pour through. He passed several slotted, wooden doors while walking down the comfortable green carpet. This was a hallway he had only been down twice in his life, but he remembered the trip well. At the second to last hallway on the right, he turned. After passing a pair of nondescript gray, sliding doors on either side, he came to a rounded, open area. On the right side was a large, antique wooden desk. Lining the left wall was a series of small pictures depicting the various starships that had served with the seventh fleet. Before him was a large pair of slotted, wooden doors with round windows just above the center of each door. An etched image of the Starfleet traingle displayed in the center of each window.

For a moment, Stephen indulged himself by looking at the mural of pictures. He was at least fifteen minutes early for his meeting with the oversight committee. As he looked at the pictures, his eyes eventually scanned down to the fourth row. Near the end, sure enough, he saw the four underpowered nacells of the USS Victory, a poor, tired Constellation class cruiser that should have been retired decades ago. Looking at the small sign below it, he saw the words 'Captain Galen Hearne'. The words made him instinctively smile. For as much trouble he had while aboard the Victory, it was a good crew. Captain Hearne was very fatherly towards his crew, a trait he shared with the Victory's former captain, Zimbata. His quarters were cramped, with a plasma exhaust pipe running right down the center of his ceiling, ensuring the room was eternally hot. The memories of the Victory were less than a year old, but they felt like a lifetime away. Looking further down the pictures, the bottom row, the last picture, was the image of the USS Warlord. The little plaque below had the words "Captain Andrei Bolerov". That hit him with a mild pang of sadness and regret.

A female voice cleared her throat from behind Stephen. "May I help you?" She asked politely.

Stephen turned around and smiled. "Sorry," he offered. "I'm here to see Admiral Leonard and company." He motioned with his thumb at the door.

The middle-aged secretary behind the desk made a few quick presses of the LCARS display on her desktop and smiled. "Commander Kirk?" She asked. Kirk nodded. "I'll be just a few more minutes." She pointed to three chairs next to her desk. "If you want, you can have a seat and wait. Colonel Prichard is in with them now."

That name took him back. Colonel Prichard? As in Starfleet Marine Colonel Prichard? The commanding officer of the Marine unit aboard the Warlord Colonel Prichard? What was he doing in there? His mind instantly began putting pieces together. They're getting testimony to prove Stephen directly disobeyed an order from Admiral Kanegawa. Well, TECHNICALLY, he didn't break any order directly. But... would the Colonel toss him behind a thruster? Normally, that would be Marine style, but Prichard was a hard man to figure out. Half the time, it seemed like the guy was following his own agenda. Noticing the seats were next to the doors, Stephen figured he might be able to eavesdrop on the conversation if he sat down. "Thanks... I think I will," he answered apprehensively.

As he made his way to the chair nearest the door, the secretary asked, "Would you like something to drink? Coffee?"

He slumped into the seat, more nervous than before. "No thanks," he answered politely with a weak smile. He leaned, ever so slightly, towards the door.

Knowing what Stephen was attempting to do, the secretary smiled. Pointing at the door, she remarked, "Things haven't always been pleasant in there."

Just then, Stephen could hear the unique southern accent of Colonel Prichard through the door.

"That has got to be the stupidest thing I've heard heard!" the colonel's voice exclaimed.

"Colonel!" The equally Scottish voice of Admiral Leonard shot back, "Admiral Wellington has served Starfleet with honor through three wars!"

"Coulda fooled me!" Prichard countered.

"Gentlemen, please!" another voice urged. That sounded like Admiral Kanegawa. "We're all on the same side here. There is no need for name calling." Kirk leaned closer to the door, his attitude moving from apprehension to entertainment.

"Tell that to him," Prichard retaliated. "Anyone who'd even suggest you leave your own people to die ain't on my side! What happened to you?" The question sounded more rhetoric.

"I learned to see the whole picture, COLONEL," the obvious voice of Admiral Wellington shot back. "If you were thinking, you'd know that wars usually last longer than one battle. Sometimes, you have to be willing to lose good people to ensure a victory."

"You risk them for a damn good reason, not because rescuing them's inconvenient, ADMIRAL," Prichard replied, getting angrier by the moment.

"Colonel," Kanegawa's voice interrupted, "the decision to consider the delegation's lives as expendible was mine."

"Whatever," Prichard's voice exclaimed disgustedly. "You all asked me if the decision was mine to send my folks in there to secure the prisoners. I said, 'yes'. You all asked me if I agreed with it. I said 'yes'. You all asked me if it was a mistake. I said, and I'll say it again, 'hell no'. If you ask me, I'd say putting a Marine on that bridge was about the smartest thing you could have done."

"We didn't ask," Wellington remarked flatly, "and with good reason."

"Why don't you get that sorry, wrinkled butt of your's off that seat..." there was a sound of chair legs rubbing against a hard floor.

"Gentlemen!" Kanegawa yelled. "Colonel, I believe that will be enough. Thank you for your time."

"Yeah, try to avoid doing that again, will ya?" Prichard asked tersely.

Quickly, the wooden double doors opened. Colonel Prichard, in his Marine fatigues, marched out quickly, a coy smile on his face. As he stepped through the door, he noticed Stephen sitting in the seat next to the door. Stephen started to stand up, but Prichard motioned him back down with his hand. "I don't know how you deal with that jackass," the colonel remarked to Stephen loud enough for everyone to hear. Stephen rolled his eyes. "If I had to answer to him, I would have knocked his head off years ago." Prichard nodded to Stephen and gave him a quick wink. "I'll see you soon, Commander." With that, the colonel marched, in military step, down the hall.

Kirk turned around and looked into the room. It was an unremarkable square room with a long table in the middle. In the center was a chair that had been upturned. Behind the table was a chuckling Admiral Leonard, a stunned Admiral Kanegawa, and a red-faced and standing Admiral Wellington.

At a complete loss for anything else to say, Admiral Kanegawa pursed his lips and patted the table top. "Well, I think we can afford to take a break for a few minutes before continuing..." 


	15. Chapter 15

Their composure restored, the trio of admirals returned to their brightly lit room. Being up several stories from the ground, the fully windowed northern wall offered a beautiful view of the Bay area. The room iteself was small, but the windows made it look larger. Dominating the middle of the room was a rounded, rectangular table with three chairs on one side and a single chair closest to the wooden door. Four other, similar chairs lined either side of the door. The carpeting was the usual, cool, tight-knit military blue prevelant throughout most of Starfleet. A wall-mounted display dominated most of the eastern wall. A single computer panel sat in the middle of the table, along with a handful of PADDs. As instructed, Stephen followed the three admirals into the room. He waved good-bye to the secretary before going in almost as a loved one waved good bye before going off to war. He was very much not looking forward to this.

As Stephen sat down, he looked around the table again. He didn't see the standard bell, which the senior officer would traditionally use to mark the beginning and ending of a hearing. He had been through enough of these 'discussions' to know one should be present.

Admiral Kanegawa sat in the center chair. Admiral Wellington sat to his right. Admiral Leonard sat on his left. As if Admiral Kanegawa knew the Commander's thoughts, he smiled as he sat his short, slightly rotund figure down. "No bells, Commander," he said warmly. "this is just an informal inquiry."

Admiral Wellington couldn't keep himself from adding, "For now," which earned him a glance from both the other admirals. Somehow, neither comment made Stephen feel any better.

"Don't worry," Leonard assured him, "we just have a few questions... maybe a few words of encouragement. That's it." Leonard attempted to lead by example by taking a deep breath before he resumed talking. "Now, then... why don't you give us a summary of what happened around stardate 57026?"

Kirk was immediately, instinctively, defensive. "I thought I had everything in the report I filled out..." There was really only one section of the report he was worried about. He had kept to the truth as well as he could except for the cause of death of Captain Bolerov. But, he and the doctor had agreed to... ammend... the truth. Their reports should have been the same. Stephen was really hoping Doctor Rass had kept his word. 

"Yes, you did," Kanegawa replied, "please indulge us."

Kirk shrugged. "Sure," he took a deep breath and said a little prayer for calm. "We had received an embedded call for help in my communicator. It had a set of coordinates. The marines went to investigate and wound up flushing out a hidden Dominion fleet. The peace negotiators were taken hostage and we were told to leave the system. We called you guys and you told us to go back and take them out. We did. In the process, we were able to rescue the hostages, but Captain Bolerov died during the fight. That's about it."

"You took a great risk trying to secure the hostages," Wellington began in a slow, calculated voice. "Some might even suggest a disobedient risk." He folded his hands on the table and narrowed his eyes. "Your first priority was the elimination of the Dominion fleet."

Wellington had always had it in for him. As far as Kirk could tell, it was mainly for the way he got into Starfleet Academy. He had always found it nearly impossible to carry on a conversation with him. "That WAS my first priority, Sir." Kirk replied tersely. Noticing he was already losing his temper, Kirk sat back in the chair again and thought another prayer for patience. His voice calm again, Stephen continued, "The marines agreed to hold off the ground forces until the Warlord had achieved space dominance."

"That was truly a dangerous plan," Kanegawa added, looking carefully at Stephen's face. In truth, Kanegawa had thought it was a gutsy plan and was quite thankful it had worked. His thirty-plus years in Starfleet, however, taught him to stay objective... especially in times like these. "It put the marines at great risk. They were horribly outnumbered."

"And, if I recall the ship's recording, the time it took you to launch the marine ships caused your own vessel to take unprotected fire." Wellington added. Personally, losing a few marines might have actually HELPED Starfleet. "Since you had such overwhelming numbers of your own to contend with, wouldn't it have been a safer plan to go in with your shields up?"

Sure... that was all he needed... more doubt. "They were only down for a few seconds. Our hull is double plated and there were only a few enemy ships in the area at the time..."

"And yet there were several potential hostile ships in your grid once your primary shields failed, weren't there?" Wellington accused. "If the Cardassians had decided to fire, your ship would have most likely been destroyed and that precious marine division would have been massacred. There's no telling how your previous damage would have factored in."

Everything had happened so fast for him, he never had time to think of the other possibilities. Once it was over, forcing himself to admit it, Stephen had tried very hard to AVOID thinking of it. "Well, I suppose..." Kirk began to admit.

Admiral Leonard interrupted, "Actually, that was probably a good risk to take." Angus wasn't about to let Wellington walk all over one of his men without a fight. There was too much at stake here. "By the time this conflict had come to blows, it was pretty obvious the Cardassians were being coerced into cooperation. Once the Dominion threat had been significantly reduced, the likelihood of the Cardassians turning back was pretty high."

Kirk nodded along with Kanegawa. Unfortunately, Stephen hadn't really thought of that... he just wasn't about to admit it.

"That is irrelevent," Wellington insisted. "With your primary weapon largely inoperative, you needed every advantage you could get. Not following our instructions implicitly put your ship at a smaller chance of success. You needed to be thinking of the bigger picture here and just do what you were told... not try to be the savior to everyone."

Stephen was starting to lose his patience again. "I WAS trying to think of the bigger picture, Admiral."

"Oh?" Wellington countered, "What about that circus stunt transport the marine Corvette pulled in getting the prisoners out of the crashing Dominion battleship?"

"That was their decision, not mine." Kirk replied flatly.

"Based on intel YOU gave them," Wellington snapped back. "Your intel led them to leave their ground troops without half their air cover. You really were trying to be the hero to everyone that day, weren't you?"

Kirk was now getting conflicted about his own reasons for doing what he did. Perhaps trying to save those lives really was a mistake. Maybe they just got lucky. He was almost defeated. "I was just trying to protect as many lives as I could. I didn't think my mission was to allow as many people to die as possible."

"It wasn't," Kanegawa replied quickly, shooting Jason a quick glance. "I have but one question on this matter, Commander. What was your motivation for organizing such a risky, daring rescue when you knew how much was at stake?"

Kirk shrugged and stared at the table for several seconds trying to think of something inspirational or impressive. Nothing came to mind. Maybe Wellington was right after all. Maybe he had no place in Starfleet, let alone in a place of authority. Without looking up, he answered sincerely, "I guess I just thought they were Starfleet and we're supposed to take care of our own before anything else. 'You never leave your people behind.'" He quoted a phrase that was ground into him during his years in the marines.

Because he never looked up, he didn't see the warm smile that crossed Admiral Kanegawa's face. "I'm satisfied with that." He pronounced after several moments.

"I'm not," Wellington countered flatly. The brief moment of relief Stephen felt evacuated like a spent balloon. "Once Warlord removed itself from the Cardassian system, something followed you. According to the ship's logs, once you came out of warp, the ship decloaked. Warlord's weapons were hot before the ship decloaked. Did you stop to identify your target before you fired?"

"No, Admiral... we didn't."

Wellington leaned forward. "Then how the hell did you know there was even something TO shoot at, let alone WHAT it was you were shooting at?"

The emotional rollercoaster ride was continuing to wear on Commander Kirk. If this was the end of his career, so be it. He leaned forward as well. "We figured we were being followed to make sure we actually left. Once we were told to go back and destroy the Dominion, we wanted the element of surprise. IF something was following us, it would be able to communicate we had changed direction. Our intent wasn't to destroy it, but we weren't figuring on it being a Cardassian ship."

"You threw a high-yield quantum torpedo at a decloaking ship NOT expecting to destroy it?" Wellington accused incredulously.

"I expected it to be a Dominion ship, not a Cardassian ship and... quite frankly... I didn't know what a 'high-yield quantum torpedo' was capable of."

Admiral Leonard chuckled. Kanegawa was more curious. "How did you know it wasn't a friendly?"

Kirk shrugged. "I guess I figured if it was a friendly, they would have attempted to communicate with us before they suddenly decloaked behind us."

Wellington shook his head. This is exactly the kind of mentality Kirk was capable of... conveniently forgetting Starfleet protocol for a gun-slinger marine 'shoot-first-ask-questions-later' approach. Once Kirk leaves and they have an opportunity to discuss what to do with him, he'd be sure to bring that up.

The other two decided to simply let the question go. After several more moments of awkward silence, Admiral Kanegawa finally stood up and extened his hand towards the Commander. "That should just about cover everything we needed to know. Thank you so much for your time. I know it was an inconvenience to take time from your vacation to come here. It was appreciated." The other two admirals also stood and extended their hands; one more reluctantly than the other.

Mildly confused, but relieved to know it was over, Kirk stood. "Not a problem, Admirals." He shook their hands; one more reluctantly than the others. Somehow, the door still seemed a thousand miles away.

"Thanks, Stephen," Admiral Leonard replied in a low voice.

"There's a chance we'll need to talk to you again before your vacation is over. If so, it will be another informal meeting like this one. Have a good afternoon."

Kirk's heart sunk with the knowledge he'd have to go through this again. "Thanks. You, too," he replied absently. Without looking back he headed towards the door as quickly as he could... while not LOOKING like he was trying to leave quickly. Once the wooden doors closed safely behind him, he dared to let out a long breath. 


	16. Chapter 16

The dining area at the Oasis could easily seat three hundred, or so Dorrin could estimate through the dim lights. It was also pretty well populated. The hostess, who was supposedly dressed in some ancient costume from a country called 'Egypt' was an attractive human female with her blonde hair in a pony tail. Her top was unsuprisingly revealing (most costumes in New Las Vegas were) and her skirt barely covered her rear end. There was a slightly elevated stage ahead of them and a long bar to his right. The music was loud, almost too loud, but the beat was infectious. It was almost a reflex to tap his foot.

"How long have you been in New Las Vegas?" the hostess asked in a friendly, bubbly voice.

"Just two days," Dorrin replied, trying to get his voice above the background noise.

"Is this your first time?" she continued.

"Yes, it is."

"What do you think of our little city?" she asked with a playful smile.

"It's a lot of fun," was the only thing he could say off the top of his head. In reality, a few words could not describe the spectacle that was New Las Vegas. Each casino was larger than the one before it. Lights sparkled and danced from everywhere bathing the city in the equivellant of full daylight 24.7 hours a day. Even the tallest structures in the most populous cities on Bajor paled in comparison to the buildings here... and these were just for recreation! Music from dozens of cultures filled the streets as did the smells of fine cuisine from the same cultures. There were very few personal conveyances travelling up and down the thoroughfares and transporters were restricted to going off-world. So... the majority of travel was done either by walking or by the use of magnarails; a fast and aerodynamic mass transit system that ran on a magnetic rail about ten meters above the ground.

For all the social progress of humans he saw on Earth during his last stay, this seemed almost a complete contradiction. No wonder there were so many Ferengi here. The quest for material wealth and money had all but vanished from Earth culture... but here... Federation credits, gold-pressed latinum, darseks, pistres and more were gambled geneously at various colorful games of chance for the opportunity to gain more. The whole experience was almost overwhelming. His mind continued to dwell on the experience until he remembered he was down over two hundred credits. A thousand curses on that blackjack table!

The hostess eventually came to a stop at a booth near the stage. "Will this work for you and your friends?"

He looked at the rather cozy booth and shook his head with a smile. "I'm afraid not. Could we have one of those tables? I'm afraid one of my friends is rather large."

She returned the smile and pointed to a round table behind them. "How about that one?"

There was ample room for Box to sit down and let others move past him. "Perfect." He took the seat closest to the stage. 

The hostess removed the trio of back-lit digital menus from under her arm and placed them at the table. She then returned to her 'official' voice. "As the sign says out front, all our food is freshly prepared, never replicated and our chefs tonight specialize in human, rigelean, and denobulan cuisine. Enjoy your meal... and your stay." She added another smile before walking off.

Doctor Rass took a few moments as she walked away to admire her figure. Apparently, she exercised quite a bit. Her leg muscles were very well toned. With his eyes now adjusted to the dim light, he looked around to survey the other patrons of the restaurant. While humans were still in the majority, there were quite a few ferengi, some orions, some nausicans and even a quartet of klingons. Why the ferengi and the nausicans weren't trying to kill each other was beyond him. Perhaps the ferengi bought them off. The thought quickly left him so he picked up his menu and began scrolling through the lengthy list of appetizers and meals.

It wasn't long until he saw two figures from the corner of his eye. He looked up to see his now 'favorite' hostess and Tyler Bristol. "Here you are," she said lightly. She motioned to the table with her hand.

"Thank you ever so much!" Tyler responded with his Londoner accent. He almost looked giddy.

She chuckled. "Well, you're welcome ever so much. Enjoy your dinner." She touched him on his shoulder as she turned away.

Tyler sat down with a huge smile, then watched her walk away. A moment later, he turned back around. "I love it here!" he exclaimed.

"This place is in your own solar system. You've never been here?" Dorrin asked incredulously. How anyone from Earth could have NOT come here was beyond him.

"Nope... never," Tyler replied, "but I'm coming back!" This place had been so wonderful so far. His parents had always warned him about places like this. Yet how could this be wrong? There was more stuff to do than he'd ever be able to fit in, more girls to see than he could count, and... well... more girls! "I'm up about three hundred credits so far. How about you?"

The gleeful smile on Tyler's face as he said that made Dorrin want to smack it off. His mood darkened briefly as this barely third year cadet-like ensign seemed to rub his good fortune in his face. "Not quite that well," he mumbled instead. Looking past Tyler's shoulder, Dorrin could make out some kind of gathering by the front door. Some entourage was making its way through the door. There seemed to be a pack of women making their way through the restaurant. They were surrounding... it was hard to see... BOX??? His eyes widened.

Tyler saw the expression change in the doctor's face, so he turned around to see what was happening. He had to blink his eyes several times and shake his head to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Yep... he was seeing it. Their chief mechanic, a large, semi-transparent spider, was being escorted to their table by a dozen GORGEOUS women. They had to be showgirls. He turned back to Dorrin, who looked at him and only shrugged.

"This ought to be a good story," Dorrin offered.

The women escorted the large, twelve-legged spider to their table and removed a chair so he could sit on on the back of his thorax, supported by his back four legs. "Hhhhthank you, ladies," he hissed through an apperture in his side.

"You're welcome!" They answered together. "We'll see you again tomorrow before the show, right, Boxie?" A particularly ravishing brunette woman offered.

Dorrin and Tyler looked at each other again and mouthed the word 'Boxie' to each other.

"Hhhhabsolutely," the hamalki replied with a giant, fanged, toothy smile. The girls eventually left, waving good bye. Box reciprocated by waving a number of three-digited limbs back.

Tyler and Dorrin looked expectantly at their relatively new, twelve-legged friend with the head full of eyes. Box held up a number of limbs towards his friends. "Hhhhit's the appendages," he replied with a smile. 


	17. Chapter 17

After several moments of Dorrin and Tyler trying to get various images of their arachnoid friend out of their heads, Dorrin finally talked. Pointing his thumb in the direction of the departed show girls, he asked, "Okay... what gives?"

"Hhhhi went to a show last night," Box began in his whisper voice. He was barely discernable over the background crowd noise, which started up again after a momentary pause. "Hhhhthey found me 'unusual'." Box smiled wider. "Hhhhapparently, this city has no problem with 'unusual'."

Dorrin smiled and continued looking at the menu. Tyler picked up his menu, but curiosity got the better of him. He had to know. "So... what have you been doing with your... um... fan club?"

Box picked up the menu and scanned it with a few of his eyes while looking at Dorrin and Tyler with the rest. For a moment, he wanted to say something untrue, but that just wasn't him. "Hhhhi helped them fix their air conditioning unit in their dressing room. Hhhhi also went to Leslie's house and fixed her water reclamator."

Dorrin chuckled at the hamalki's innocence. Why should he be surprised? For all the places Box has been, he's still led a rather sheltered life. Granted, he didn't know Box as well as he'd like, but 'sheltered' described him pretty well.

Tyler almost choked. "You're kidding? You're on vacation and you're fixing stuff? That's how you spent your time when you had a dozen gorgeous women hanging on you?"

Box cocked his head. He had come to expect such things from youthful humans. He remembered a few discussions like this when Tony and Stephen were in the Academy. "Hhhhwhat did you think I would do? Hhhhi am a mechanic. I find fulfillment in performing my service for others." Box smiled broadly. "Hhhhbesides, I spent all day with a dozen human women. Hhhhwhat did you do? Hhhhbetween you and me, I do not find human women that attractive."

Tyler's eyes widened. "How can you not find women attractive? I mean... they've got..." he began to motion curves with his hands when Dorrin loudly cleared his throat. "What?" Dorrin motioned over Tyler's left shoulder. He turned to see a tall, crimson-haired human woman with perfect, long legs standing next to him. Her face was narrow and her long hair was in a single ponytail that almost touched the small of her back. She smiled and winked. "I'm Kellie and I'll be serving you tonight. I hope I'm one of those attractive humans you were talking about." Her smile widened. In most of human culture, money had been abolished. But here, currency was still used; not for the purchase of basic necessities, but for the purchase of anything more exotic. Therefore, gratuities were appreciated and a table of single men was quite promising to her. A little harmless flirting would definately get her a few extra credits. Besides, the young one was kind of cute... especially when his face started turning red.

Tyler bit his lip instinctively until it hurt, causing him to wince. There were several red haired women near his home, being close to Ireland and he consistently got this way in front of every single one. He wanted to scream. "Um... I didn't mean to... I mean... you are... but..." Jeez... it was happening again. He could tell he was starting to sweat. For crying out loud... he was twenty-three! He was the chief helmsman of the USS Warlord! He wished he was back on the ship. "Hi," he managed to stammer. Once again, a beautiful redhead reduced him to that skinny fifteen year old trying to ask Carrie O'Bannon to the freshman dance.

For some reason, Kellie found that absolutely adorable. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Hi," she replied. "Can I get you folks anything from the bar while you look over the menus? Our speciality tonight is a tarsi twist using fresh oranges from Florida."

"I'll take one!" Tyler blurted out without thinking. He wanted a hundred.

"I'll take a parthic ale," Dorrin state, trying his hardest not to blurt out laughing at the obvious inexperience Mr. Bristol had with the opposite sex.

"Hhhhi will have soda water, please," Box requested.

Kellie raised an eyebrow. "Just soda water?"

Box nodded. "Hhhhin a very large container, please," Box reassured with a toothy smile.

Kellie shrugged. This was the first time in her life she had ever served a giant spider. She waited on a group of giant slug looking creatures from... where were they from? "Hey, the customer is always right," she stated. "I'll be right back with your drinks." She spun on her heel and left for the bar.

Dorrin looked at his young tablemate with a raised eyebrow for several seconds while Tyler wiped his face with his hands. "You know," he started slowly, "I am an accomplished surgeon. I could probably put your tongue back in your mouth." With that, he began laughing, followed by the tinkling chime-like sound of Box laughing.

Tyler rubbed his temples. "Did I really sound that stupid?" Please let them say, 'no', he thought.

"Hhhhwell..." Box started hesitantly. It proved to be extremely difficult for him to say anything positive.

"Let's just say I'm glad you're a better pilot than a womanizer," Dorrin offered.

Tyler leaned his head back in his chair and let out a deep breath. After several seconds, he opened his eyes to see Kellie standing over him holding a tray of drinks. Her thin, white tunic did little to hide her figure. "Hi, again," she said warmly.

He smiled back, but could tell it looked stupid. Looking up at her face, he decided to compliment the first feature he could see that wouldn't be offensive. "You have nice nostrils," he said before he could think of something else. Once his mind caught up with what his mouth said, he wanted to throw up. Dorrin did his best to cover his face and turn away. His body almost convulsed from his attempts to stifle his laughter.

Kellie bit her bottom lip in the hopes she wouldn't laugh. "Well, thank you," was the only answer she could come up with. He couldn't have been more than a couple years younger than her. To be this untalented at small talk must mean he had extensive skills at something else. The only times such different races ever sat at the same table was if they were smugglers... they weren't the type... diplomats... again, not the type... or Starfleet. She decided that if he could muster up the courage to ask her out, she'd oblige him and take him on a tour of the city. "I have your drinks, gentlemen." She put them on the table.

Tyler had tasted tarsi twists before. His father served them at his pub for years. It was one of the few 'alien' drinks that actually tasted good. It had a fruity taste with a mild sour aftertaste. The synthohol was barely discernable. He knew the version of synthohol they used on New Las Vegas well. It actually still had some of the intoxicating qualities of the original alchohol from which it was based. He was counting on that. He quickly downed the glass like a shot. "May I have another one?" Box and Dorrin stared at Tyler in surprise.

"Easy there, Sailor," Kellie said playfully. "You can get intoxicated from this synthohol."

That's what he was hoping for. He had never been drunk before, but he had seen plenty of people at his father's pub 'put down a few too many.' At this point, he certainly couldn't do any worse. Not wanting to look the waitress in the eye again, he looked to the stage. A large sign next to the stage read, "Karaoke Night." All he had to do was make sure he didn't get intoxicated enough to try THAT. 


End file.
